The Show Must Go On
by bnomiko
Summary: "Take care of Kuja." Zidane wondered if he'd misunderstood what Garland had meant by that. A canon inspired tumble through the events at the end of the game and beyond, hitting Kuja's issues along the way. Eventual ZidaneKuja.
1. Prologue: Hang On in There

Pairing(s): eventual ZidaneKuja  
Spoilers: through the end of the game  
Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" and "Hang On in There" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

**This is a SHONEN-AI fic (male + male romantic relationship). If you are offended by homosexual relationships, please do not read this. Flames will be disregarded.**

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**The Show Must Go On**

**Prologue: Hang On in There**

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_You are on your own now.  
Zidane... take care of Kuja.  
... and protect the crystal.  
Farewell..._

It had started with those four simple words: take care of Kuja.

When Garland's fading voice had delivered that last message in Memoria, Zidane had thought he'd understood the task that lay before him, that it was up to him to take care of Kuja once and for all, to eliminate the threat the older Genome posed to all existence on Gaia.

He'd done his best to hold to that, both he and his friends… They'd confronted Kuja, clashed against him in one last, bitter fight, pushing him to the brink of defeat, before the fearsome mage had unleashed his ultimate spell, intent on taking them out with his last breath…

But they'd survived. And so had Kuja, though they hadn't realized it until later when, despite his injuries, he'd somehow teleported them away from Necron as the godlike entity had corroded, destroying everything in the immediate vicinity as he had faded from their world. Then he'd managed to send one last message to Zidane, faintly bidding him farewell. And Zidane, rash as ever, made his decision…

It should've been simple. Get in, find Kuja, and… well, Zidane hadn't thought past that, actually. Certainly it hadn't been an issue when he'd finally clambered up onto the platform which Kuja had lain. His brother had looked like he was knocking upon death's door: bleeding profusely from a nasty open wound on his left side, the tears in his clothing revealing a multitude of additional cuts and bruises. His skin had been white from blood loss; his silver hair painted with blotches of dark red. If that hadn't been enough, Zidane had known, even if the injuries had somehow been less severe… it wouldn't have mattered. Garland had said Kuja would die soon. And Kuja had expended so much his energy in that final battle; could he even recover from that?

And though it hadn't been the time or place for a heartfelt conversation - the Iifa Tree had been going wild around them – Kuja had been desperate to talk, despite how short and labored each breath had become. He'd asked after Zidane's companions, had spoken of regret… and then he had passed out. For a split second Zidane even thought Kuja had died, just like that. And in that moment, he'd suddenly wondered, had he misunderstood the meaning of those four simple words? Take care of Kuja… _And what, help him? Save him?_

Then the Iifa Tree's branches suddenly reared up and surged towards them, like angry snakes zeroing in on a meal, and the only thing Zidane could think of doing was throwing himself over the prone body beside him as the world went dark all around them.

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Author's Notes:

- A bit of background: I only just played FFIX this past year, however I'd seen the ending (and only the ending) when the game first came out. Zidane's reckless charge into the Iifa Tree to find Kuja really stuck with me even though I didn't understand what was going on, and it somehow lay dormant in the back of my head until my interest in the game resurfaced a few months ago. Long story short, my reason for writing this is I didn't like Kuja's fated ending (this seems to be a reoccurring theme with me), and as most fanfics out there end up inevitably being deathfics, I felt it was up to me to come up with a different outcome.

- While I tried to stay as close to canon as possible, I'm fudging things like the timeline dates and of course the ending:

1) According to the canon timeline, the events in Memoria / the Iifa Tree took place in mid March (though I don't remember the game giving any real indicators of that). But in order for my story to work as planned, I'm pushing it out by about 5 months so that the body of the story will start out in the winter.

2) I'll be using as much of the existing ending as possible. The major difference would be Kuja - and Vivi - surviving (so obviously, Mikoto's soliloquy at the Iifa Tree didn't happen and the same with Vivi's memory in the sky speech. This also means no mini Vivis).

- It's my belief that Kuja, Zidane and Mikoto are not genetically siblings in canon, going by the English version of the game. I base this off a few quotes: 1) Garland telling Zidane, "The one I sent to Gaia might also be called your brother…" and 2) Zidane saying of Mikoto, "She's kinda like my little sister." If they were siblings I would think it'd read more like "The one I sent to Gaia is your brother" and "She's my little sister." So to me, "brother" in this case is more like fellow countryman, that sort of thing.

Thanks for reading; chapter 1 is pretty much written and should be posted in a few days, however I wanted to get the prologue up to get things rolling. Reviews are always appreciated (well, not that there's much to say about a prologue), especially as this is my first foray into this fandom.


	2. Ch 1: The Show Must Go On

Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" is performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

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**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 1: The Show Must Go On**

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Zidane quietly slipped through the front door, alert for any sign of the house's other occupant as he dropped a bundle of supplies onto the floor.

"Kuja?" he whispered. No response. He hadn't really expected one, but he'd always been an optimist…

The small bedroom lay directly across from the entrance. Zidane crept over and pushed open the door, wincing at the creaking of rusted hinges, before making his way over to the bed to stare at the figure lying before him.

At least Kuja was still breathing. He was alive. But the latest bout of fever gripping him didn't want to break, even after Zidane poured his few remaining healing potions down Kuja's throat. His skin was pale – well, paler than usual – and damp with a cold sweat; the thin hands that gripped the blankets were trembling faintly. Zidane sat down on the mattress, reached out, and gently brushed a few stray hairs off his brother's face. No reaction other than an unconscious shiver. Zidane sighed. Every time he went on a supply run, he worried that he'd come back only to find that Kuja had worsened or even expired while he was gone. But it seemed a real possibility now. He'd been unable to wake his brother since the morning before, and it was now late in the day, the sun barely hovering above the horizon, taking away what little heat it had provided during the increasingly short winter days.

After adjusting the blankets on the bed, the blonde stole out of the room, needing to take care of a few things before calling it a day.

The fire in the fireplace had died some time during the afternoon, so Zidane fetched wood and tinder from the kitchen and quickly got it going again, striking some flints until they sparked and set the tinder aflame. He shivered, threw in a few extra logs for good measure, and frowned. Even with the fire, it would be a cold night. The long abandoned house had been in such disrepair when he'd found it: the roof leaked, many of the windows were cracked and broken. Zidane had done what repairs he could with salvaged wood and a bag of slightly rusted nails, but he wasn't much of a carpenter and all he'd been able to do was minimize the draftiness. Not that he had a right to complain, he scolded himself, his lips twisting into a smirk. Ninety-nine percent of a roof was better than none at all, right? And it really had been a godsend to find shelter out in the middle of nowhere when he'd been on the brink of collapse, having dragged Kuja's injured body out of the Iifa Basin while bruised and exhausted himself.

But it really was _damn_ cold…

The frigid temperature, along with Kuja's current condition, had forced the blonde into an unexpected position. With only one bedroom and only one bed, Zidane had given up on trying to sleep on the lumpy sofa for curling up under the covers with his brother, relying on body heat to get them through the night. Being in a comparatively soft, warm bed was nice. Being in a comparatively soft, warm bed with a rather clingy male bedmate was… well, _different_.

Every morning since then, Zidane had woken up to find a cheek pressed against his shoulder, a hand clutching at his shirt, a long silver tail draped over his waist or hips, a leg flung over his, hooking around an ankle. Once, Kuja had even managed to get both hands under Zidane's shirt, resting one on his chest and the other low on his stomach, just above the waistband of his pants. Zidane frowned slightly at the memory, then scratched the back of his head and shrugged. He couldn't hold it against the mage. Sick as he was, and the nights being as cold as they'd been, homing in on the body heat nearby had to be pretty irresistible.

_Who would've figured Kuja was a cuddler?_ Nothing about him was cuddly when he was unleashing Flare Star and Ultima on one's ass. Not that Zidane wasn't a cuddler too… except he wanted to cuddle with girls, period. Despite Kuja's pretty face – and Zidane had discovered to his amusement that it was even prettier once he'd wiped it clean of the cosmetics the other man favored - and the rather feminine build, he was no girl. It was almost too bad that he wasn't…

The sudden loud rumbling of his stomach derailed Zidane from the track his thoughts had taken. With a sigh, he went back to the front door and picked up the items he'd bought from the tiny Dwarven outpost on the edge of the Lucid Plains. He took the supplies to the kitchen, a room barely suited to be called that since neither the stove nor icebox worked, and after cutting himself a thick slice of bread and an equally generous amount of cheese, packed away the rest of the provisions in the one cabinet that still had a door.

Munching on his dinner, he leaned against the counter and stared out the smudged window. It had been a little over three months since the fight in Memoria, since he'd last seen his friends. He was bored. He wished Kuja would wake up so he'd have someone to talk to. Or talk _at._ For even when Kuja was awake and lucid, he didn't really say much. He was tired and sore and cranky, his wounds not healing as well as Zidane would've liked. And when he did talk, he annoyed Zidane by constantly bitching and complaining and saying that he should've been left behind to die, that he deserved it… and Zidane was sick of it. How many times did he have to tell him that no one should have to die like that, that he didn't deserve it, not if he really was sorry, before it got through his thick skull? Even if Garland was right and Kuja didn't have long, Zidane thought the older Genome ought to try living for once instead of running full speed into the grave.

It was too cold and too late for a bath, so Zidane settle for washing his hands and face in the kitchen sink before heading back to the bedroom. He quickly shed his battle worn clothing and pulled on the scavenged cotton shirt and pants that served as his sleepwear, and slipped under the sheets on the near side of the bed. Knowing full well he'd wake up with his arms full of Kuja whether he liked it or not, he rolled towards the middle and awkwardly inched over until their shoulders were touching. More or less satisfied with his positioning, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to relax and fall asleep, but sleep no longer came easily. Not since the Iifa Tree. He wondered how his friends were doing, how Dagger was faring. He missed them all terribly. Did they miss him? When would he see them again?

Tired of staring at the unresponsive ceiling, Zidane rolled over and stared at his unresponsive brother instead. As much as he wanted to run back home to the familiar comfort of his friends, he couldn't… no, he wouldn't. It didn't matter if he'd misunderstood Garland's message or not; this wasn't an obligation. He did care. He believed that Kuja had changed and he wanted to give him a chance at a life worth living, though he knew it wouldn't be easy. If anyone ever saw him, recognized him… But Zidane wasn't a quitter and he knew Kuja wasn't one either, if he only he could convince him that he did matter, that his life had value.

The blonde frowned, suddenly feeling tired, as if thinking took more out of him than a run to the supply outpost and back. But he couldn't go to sleep just yet. He reached over and put a hand on Kuja's shoulder, almost to his chest. He could feel it slowly rise and fall with each breath, a bit of reassurance that Kuja was still there, still fighting to survive.

Zidane sighed and finally shut his eyes, letting the slight movement and warmth lull him into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

It felt like he'd only just fallen asleep, but there was no escaping the shafts of morning light that threaded through the window, alighting on his face. Zidane scowled, squinting his eyes against the brightness of the light, then stilled at the unshakeable feeling that someone's eyes were on him… and someone's chin digging into his sternum. Zidane smiled slighty at that. He felt deliciously warm. He could still taste the vestiges of his dream where he'd been holding Dagger and she'd felt so nice in his arms, smelling like sunshine and rose petals.

He tilted his head down a little to look at the figure in his arms and froze, suddenly as awake as if a splash of cold water had hit his face. How on Gaia had he ended up on Kuja's pillow, with Kuja's head crushed against his chest? Zidane swallowed as he realized the silver-haired man couldn't move away even if he wanted to since Zidane's arms were steadfastly holding him in place. But at least he was awake… the relief that brought was worth the embarrassment of their positioning.

"Well, uh… good morning," Zidane said, grinning stupidly as he released Kuja from the death grip he'd had him in. Surprisingly the mage didn't move away, seemingly content to remain where he was to stare up at the blonde. Or maybe he didn't have the strength to move?

"How do you feel?" Zidane asked, concerned it was the latter. He pressed his hand against Kuja's cheek and was relieved to find that his fever had indeed broken. Kuja was still a little sweaty and hot to the touch, his blue-gray eyes a bit glassy, but he was light years better than he'd been the day before.

The other Genome finally rolled away and onto his back, taking stock of his condition before answering. "Tired. Sticky," he grunted, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He slung his arm over his eyes and scowled as his hand brushed against strands of unwashed hair. "Ugh…"

Zidane sat up. "If you're up to it, I'll heat some water for a bath."

"Please."

For some reason Zidane found it funny that Kuja had manners at all, since that felt like the antithesis of world destruction, though he supposed Kuja had spent a lot of time around nobles and royalty, where such things mattered.

"Do you need help getting up?" Zidane asked, though his hands had already moved to provide assistance.

Of course, that was deemed immediately offensive. Kuja swatted at them. "No. Don't touch me."

_Great, he's going to be pissy today,_ Zidane thought to himself though he kept a smile pasted on his face, mostly out of the knowledge that it'd irritate the heck out of his brother. _At least he's talking though._ That alone was a massive improvement over drooling at the ceiling, brooding at the wall, or feverishly sweating all over the bed. "Well _princess_, I'll go get started on the water then. You just take your time," the young thief said sweetly as he strode from the room.

Kuja scowled at the departing back, suddenly determined to show just how capable he was of getting by on his own. He didn't need anyone for anything; he wasn't foolish enough to expect something like that. Mind made up, he sat up carefully, concentrating on making sure his surrounding stood still, then swung his legs off the bed as he continued to assess his condition. Not great, but he'd manage somehow. He had to. He always had before.

He stood slowly and began shuffling towards the door.

* * *

Kuja slowly lifted his head from where it was leaning against the wall, his brows knitting in irritation at the sound of loud knocking. Strange… he didn't remember letting his head drop down. Had he been so out of it that he'd somehow nodded off while on his feet? "What?" he managed to croak.

The voice that forced its way through the door seemed too loud, too lively. "Just making sure you're not on the toilet. Hot water is ready, by the way."

Kuja frowned. Zidane needed to learn tact. He also needed to take down his volume a few notches.

"So can I come in or what?" Zidane yelled.

"Yes."

The door flew open and Zidane's tail swept in, followed by the rest of his body. He was bent over, dragging a heavy pot from the fireplace to the tub in the corner of the bathroom. When he'd finally gotten it to where he wanted it, he straightened up and exaggeratedly swiped his hand across his brow.

"Whew! Sorry I couldn't get it hotter, but anything is better than ice cold right?" Zidane said brightly, though he didn't expect a response. It was too bad he couldn't get anything except cold water running, or else they'd be able to have proper baths, but he wasn't going to sweat the small stuff. He looked over to where Kuja was standing and noted how he was slumped against the wall, still fully dressed in baggy pajamas, with a towel loosely clutched in one hand. "You need help?"

Kuja scowled faintly. "No." He didn't want to admit that it was taking all of his strength just to stand there. How he'd managed to make it the short distance from the bedroom to the bathroom in the first place, he wasn't sure.

Zidane cocked his head, then after a moment, began pulling off his shirt. "Right. You can barely stand on your own."

"What are you doing? I told you, I don't need help," Kuja snapped.

"Riiight." Zidane tossed his shirt out the door, then went and yanked off Kuja's as well, ignoring the snarls of protest. "Now then, pants next. Unless you think you can manage that part yourself?"

Considering the oversized pants were barely hanging on to his hips as it were, even Kuja could handle that part. He managed to balance himself enough to step out of them without stumbling, then took a deep breath and swung himself into the tub, sitting down wearily and immediately wincing at how cold the metal was. It was as effective a wake up call as a bucket of water to the face and just as unwelcome. He drew his long legs up against his chest so that he'd fit better. His tail got wound around his feet.

He gritted his teeth as shivering overtook his body. It was times like this where he most missed the luxuries of the Desert Palace, Treno or even Alexandria Castle. Heck, even a common inn had heated baths! They didn't have that luxury here, and it didn't help that the tin tub was too small and the water supply too scant for a good soak anyhow. It was better than nothing though; he knew that. He had no right to complain. But it didn't mean he had to be happy about it either.

He sighed softly when Zidane knelt behind him and began ladling water over his hair. It was impossible to get it completely clean without the addition of some herbs and oils, but the warmth of the water felt good, as did the careful fingers rubbing over his scalp and combing through the long silver strands.

A bar of soap tapped against his shoulder, and Kuja accepted it gratefully, glad that Zidane wasn't planning on scrubbing him down too. Not that he had the same hang ups as his brother – men, women, it didn't matter – but he hated the thought of having to depend on anyone for anything, especially basic necessities that he ought to be able to handle on his own. It rankled to know that Zidane must've been washing him, feeding him, dragging him back and forth to the toilet and so on, for countless day or even weeks, while he'd been as helpless and unaware as a newborn babe.

Kuja began soaping himself up, frowning as he brushed over the scars he'd accumulated, a permanent reminder of his loss to Zidane and his companions. Most of the smaller ones would probably fade in time, but he couldn't say the same for the long whip-like mark cutting across both upper thighs, or the large starburst that wrapped around his left side, reaching from the bottom of his ribs to mid hip. Tumbling through the canopy of the Iifa Tree would do that to a body, though ironically it was that same canopy that had slowed his fall enough to allow him to survive the plunge. He knew he should be grateful he hadn't broken his back or something, that his internal injuries hadn't been fatal, but his appearance was something he'd always taken pride in. Unfortunately healing potions just weren't strong enough to remove all evidence of damage that severe, and although he was nearly as good with white magic as he was with black, he'd been too weak to manage even a single Cure spell since his fall, and now it was too late to erase the resulting marks.

"Don't worry, you're still pretty," Zidane remarked when he noticed what Kuja's attention was fixed on.

Kuja turned and glared, earning him a painful yank on the strands of hair Zidane had been hanging on to. He hated that. "Beautiful" was fine - it couldn't be helped - but "pretty" was the sort of thing that drunken Treno nobles used when they tried to grope him. "Now you're mocking me." His tail flicked a bit of water out of the tub in reaction to his growing agitation. He turned his glare on it instead.

"No, not at all. You're alive; isn't that what's important?" When the mage didn't answer, Zidane went on. "Besides, no one will notice those if you wear normal clothes. You know, ones that don't look like women's undergarments."

"My attire was chosen for practical reasons," Kuja finally answered, but he didn't explain what that meant. Zidane cocked his head. He couldn't think of a single thing practical about a cropped jacket with billowing sleeves and a thong backed by yards of fabric, unless Kuja meant that it was attention catching and thus inflating to his already overstuffed ego, but Zidane kept his mouth shut. It wasn't important anyhow, and he didn't want to fight, not about something so stupid.

"Hmm, if you say so." Zidane began dumping the remaining water over Kuja's back for a rinse off.

"Appearances matter," Kuja insisted, gingerly tracing yet another long, thin scar on the inside of his right arm, running from wrist to bicep. "Surely during your time masquerading as an actor you came to understand that much." He caught Zidane's wrist as the blonde went to hand him a towel and tutted softly at the scars the younger Genome had likely picked up after stupidly diving in after him. At least Zidane's didn't look nearly as bad from what Kuja could see. A few marks on the arms, a slightly worse one on a shoulder... Zidane must've managed a more controlled fall whereas Kuja felt like he'd hit every damn branch on the way down.

And knowing how Zidane's brain worked, he probably thought the scars made him look more manly or something, a badge of honor to impress girls with. Kuja could just imagine the way the young thief would brag to any ladies in earshot: _Oh, these? Yeah, let me tell you about the time I took a flying leap into an angry tree to save my brother while he was lying there helplessly awaiting rescue… _

Zidane pulled free of Kuja's hold and dumped a second towel over his head to carefully dry the silken strands. "I wasn't masquerading. We're just an acting troupe with a hidden exit fee tacked on," he explained with a grin as he gently blotted the moisture out of the feathers that crowned Kuja's mane.

A slight smile appeared on Kuja's lips, then disappeared just as quickly. "A hidden fee… Is that why you're still here, Zidane? To collect?"

Sometimes Kuja's leaps of logic were unfathomable. "What?"

"I've been trying to figure it out. Why you came back to the Iifa Tree. Why you bothered dragging me out. Why you're still here…"

_Damn it, and it had been going so well…_ Zidane grumbled to himself. He wondered if he'd ever get used to Kuja's mercurial moods. "I've already told you – and I'll keep telling you 'til you get it - I went back for you 'cause I wasn't going to just leave you there to be crushed to death or whatever! And even if… even if it was too late, I didn't want you to die alone. No one deserves that. I know you've changed. You're sorry for the things you've done. You said so, and I believe you. So I want to make sure you get a second chance. Is that so hard to understand?"

The older Genome's eyes fluttered shut. He was suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was. Zidane was right; he'd explained himself many times already, but Kuja didn't know if he'd ever be able to believe him. How could he? Zidane's brand of sunny optimism sounded so stupid. What was the point in giving someone useless like him another chance? He'd destroyed cities and homes, taken so many lives. He bet a lot of those people deserved a second chance more than he did.

"What's the point? Garland said I'd die soon. It's what I deserve anyway," Kuja said stiffly. He refused to look at Zidane, even when the blonde stopped drying his hair and moved over to hunch down front of him. "Why bother trying?"

"And when is 'soon'? You're just going to give up, just like that, when you don't know…? You could have years left. But you'd rather squander them moping and feeling sorry for yourself. If you really want to make up for what you've done, then you gotta try living, or else you're right, this is all for nothing."

Kuja sighed but didn't reply. Zidane went on. "You rebelled against Garland's expectations, against his orders. You're not going to roll over and die now just because he said so. Prove him wrong!"

"But… what if he isn't?" Kuja insisted.

Zidane suddenly stood up. He walked off a few feet, his hands clenching in to fists momentarily. He took a deep breath and managed to relax them enough so that he could rub at his temples, trying to push away the headache that was starting to pound at the sides of his skull. Why did his brother have to be so gods damned _stubborn_?

"Stop trying to be a hero, Zidane. You can't save everyone."

Oh yeah, he was going to have a headache for sure. Zidane spun back around. "Good thing I'm not trying to! You're taking all of my effort as it is."

"What do you want from me, Zidane?" Kuja asked, much more sharply.

"For starters, can you try being more agreeable?"

Kuja's immediate reaction was to open his mouth to argue, but he caught himself and snapped it shut instead. He still didn't understand Zidane's way of thinking; he didn't know if he ever would. But he'd do as asked and hold his tongue this instance. He owed that much to Zidane. And he still needed to get out of the tub; as loathe as he was to admit it, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do so on his own.

Zidane looked a little surprised to not get another snappy retort thrown in his face, but he recovered quickly and nodded. "Guess that's a start. Now then, you think you can manage to dry yourself off?"

Kuja stood… and fell over the moment he tried to step out of the tub. Zidane had been ready to give him a hand, so he was able to catch him easily. He picked up the towel Kuja had dropped and handed it back to him, then held on to his arm, steadying him while the mage tried his best to dry himself off.

Zidane couldn't help but notice that Kuja was starting to shiver again. "Come on, let's get you back to bed," the young thief sighed. Not wanting to waste time on arguing over it, he simply scooped Kuja up, ignoring the hiss of protest, and carried him back to the bedroom. Although the silver-haired man was a good hand and a half taller, he was proportionally thinner and had lost so much additional weight from being laid up that the younger Genome had no trouble carrying him.

Kuja fought the urge to struggle. He didn't have the energy for it and was trying to be "agreeable" anyhow. Besides, if he were to be completely honest with himself, although he was still trying to get used to it, it wasn't that bad, being cared for by someone. It was so foreign that it was almost novel. That didn't mean he planned on letting his debt go unpaid forever though. There had to be something Zidane wanted or expected from him. He just didn't know what it was yet, or what he could offer to make things right…

After reaching the bedroom, Zidane put Kuja down on the mattress, damp towels and all, and then rummaged for some fresh clothing. He fished up a gray shirt and blue drawstring pants, much too large of course, but at least they were clean. He tossed them to his brother, who made a face at the selection but went ahead and got dressed, albeit a bit clumsily. There wasn't a hole cut in the pants for a tail, but he'd been used to concealing it in the hidden pouch built into the skirt-like flap of his old outfit anyhow, so he simply made do by threading it down one pant leg.

Zidane sat down on the bed behind him and went back to drying Kuja's hair, finger combing the strands into some semblance of order. "Feel a little better? Want something to eat?" After Kuja shook his head negatively, the young thief sighed and said, "I didn't mean to make you shut up completely you know. I'm sorry if that's what you thought. I want to help, but I don't know if I'm getting through to you. Don't you trust me at all?"

"I don't know how to. I've never tried trusting anyone."

"Well, try then. It'll make both our lives a lot easier."

Kuja snorted.

"Worry about it later though. I'm just glad you're awake and doing better, after the last few days." Zidane gave the silver mane a final toweling off, then pulled back the covers and nudged Kuja into the center of the bed before tucking him in. "Get some rest, okay?"

"Come to bed too," Kuja asked before he thought to stop himself.

Zidane paused, then smiled. "Actually, I need a bath myself."

"Fine, suit yourself." Kuja grumbled, rolling over.

_So much for being agreeable, _Zidane chuckled to himself. "Oh, all right." He hesitated a split second, trying to decide whether or not he should stay on top of the covers, then decided it was too chilly to just hang out without a shirt. So he slid under the blankets on the side closest to the door, propping his chin up with one hand while letting his fingers play lightly over Kuja's shoulder the way one would comfort a child. The mage made a small, pleased sound at the contact. Zidane smirked. Only minutes ago, Kuja was spitting mad at being touched, and now he was welcoming it. It made Zidane wonder amusedly if maybe Genomes were part cat, because only cats were so hot and cold about being touched. That and the tails of course…

But at least it did the trick. Kuja was asleep in no time. Once Zidane was sure of it, he rolled out of bed, grabbed the towels and a change of clothes, and silently padded out of the room. Good thing he'd already had a second pot of water heating. Kuja had seemed to enjoy his bath; Zidane was looking forward to one too.

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Author's Notes:

- I know, Genome tails are prehensile like a monkey's, but while Zidane certainly reminds me of a monkey, Kuja makes me think of a prissy, fussy cat. I can't resist equating him with one.

- Shout outs, before I forget. Thanks to Nenya85 for beta work, even without foreknowledge of the game. And to the Final Fantasy Wiki and The White Dragon's walkthrough on the Let's Play Archive for providing much needed information, game quotes, and inspiration. Let's face it, it's pretty hard trying to memorize every nuance of a game, and I wanted to utilize as much canon as possible to build the foundation for this fic.

- For a bit of extra flavor, I would encourage ffnet readers to look up the corresponding lyrics to each chapter title. All the chapter titles are taken from Queen songs. I have lyrics posted on the chapters posted on my site but have omitted them from the ffnet chapters as per their terms and conditions.


	3. Ch 2: Leaving Home Ain't Easy

Disclaimer:"The Show Must Go On" and "Leaving Home Ain't Easy" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

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**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 2: Leaving Home Ain't Easy**

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Once again, it was late afternoon by the time Zidane got back from his supply run. It had becoming something of a routine… twice a week, he'd leave for the Dwarven outpost early in the afternoon and come back as the sun began dipping down behind the mountains, bathing the land in a golden glow before the coolness of night came to swallow up the light's warmth.

He shouldered the door open and dumped the provisions on the floor. That too was part of the routine. Come home, toss everything onto the floor, and sort it out later. The first priority was to check in on his housemate, of course.

Much to his relief, he immediately spotted Kuja in the living room, sitting on the sofa by the window. "Honey, I'm home!" he called out cheerily.

"Not sure who you're talking to, but if you wish to converse with an imaginary friend, be my guest," Kuja sourly responded.

Zidane just grinned. He didn't mean to tease his companion, not really, but it made him happy to hear a response, no matter how biting the comments were. Winter was just beginning to loosen its grip and Kuja's condition was improving, though he still had a ways to go. On the surface he looked fine, if slightly worse for wear. And he hadn't had a severe setback since the high fever that had floored him for a couple of days at the onset of winter. But for some reason he hadn't recovered any of his former strength, as if his soul were still dying despite all of Zidane's efforts to save him. So Kuja remained bedridden for the most part, tiring easily and sleeping a lot as a result. And of course magic was still completely beyond him… Zidane had come home three days ago to find the once unstoppable mage passed out on the floor, all because he'd tried to cast a basic Fire spell on the wood in the fireplace.

At least Kuja hadn't been stupid enough to try that again. The older Genome was currently curled up on the sofa with a blanket and a large, weathered looking book.

"What's that?" Zidane asked.

Kuja looked up and gave him a funny look. "It's called a book, Zidane."

Zidane smirked. Along with the weather and Kuja's health, their relationship had improved as well. They could hold a real conversation now. They could even joke around and say stupid things to each other. Zidane found himself increasingly enjoying the time he spent with his fellow Genome. There was a lot he still didn't know about his species, about Garland, about Terra, and he was eager to snap up any little tidbits Kuja let slip his way, though the silver-haired man was still reluctant to talk about those things. Yes, Zidane still missed his friends, but the loneliness that had hung heavily over his head the first couple of months had finally abated now that there was someone to pass the time with. So even though it was finally starting to warm up, he had no plans to move back out of the bedroom they'd been sharing.

Letting loose an exaggerated sigh to match his devil may care smirk, Zidane volleyed back, "I KNOW that. I mean, where did you find it? I don't remember seeing anything like that on the bookshelf."

"It was in the shed out back."

"Oh…" Zidane wasn't sure if he ought to scold Kuja for wandering around outside or congratulate him on feeling well enough to do so, despite the risk of faceplanting in the snow and freezing to death. Though he supposed he wasn't surprised. There really wasn't anything to do around the house and Kuja had blown through the entire shelf of books multiple times already… Maybe that was why he'd asked Zidane to pick up a sewing kit from the outpost, because he was just _that_ bored.

Zidane stepped closer and glanced at the cover of the book again. "Reading up on Eidolons huh? Learned anything new?"

"I'm not doing anything bad," Kuja snapped defensively. "It was just sitting there. And I like reading. I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Hey hey, I wasn't complaining," Zidane said, hands held up defensively. He wasn't surprised to find confirmation that they were holed up in a former Summoner home, probably built by one of the survivors of Kuja's attack some eleven years prior. Ironic then that it was providing them both safety and shelter. Hell, Eiko Carol's family might have lived there at some point… She might've even been born there.

No point in tripping that trap though. Zidane hated having to avoid conversational land mines all the time, but since he'd already stepped on one, he supposed it was up to him to steer the conversation to safer ground. He remembered his friends telling him about the huge library within the Desert Palace, the shelves stretching three floors high, all the way to the ceiling. "You must like reading a lot. The Desert Palace had a library that rivaled Alexandria Castle's, right?"

Kuja nodded, pleased that Zidane had taken note of that. "I had a lot of time on my hands. When I wasn't plotting anything, of course," the mage added with acidic sweetness.

Zidane thought back to the Desert Palace again. The name was fitting – it was a huge, palatial estate, surpassing even the Grand Castle of Lindblum and Alexandria Castle in opulent splendor. But for such a tremendous building, it had been surprisingly empty, occupied by some monsters and not much else. "It must've been pretty boring there otherwise, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Why'd you live there then? I mean, I know you had a way of getting back and forth, but it was still awfully out of the way."

"It was convenient precisely because it was 'out of the way'."

"So you really didn't think of it as home?"

"It was… a pretty cage. A place to put books, artwork… _guests_. Whatever caught my fancy," Kuja said with an unapologetic smile.

Zidane rolled his eyes at the jab. "So Alexandria or Treno were more to your taste then?"

Kuja just shrugged. He had no idea why Zidane was asking. It seemed he was missing the point entirely. "'Home' is a foreign concept when you're stuck on an alien world, don't you think?"

The thief scratched his head. "Well, you say that, but I still consider Lindblum my hometown, even if I wasn't born there."

"Suit yourself."

Zidane wondered if he was ready to step on another trap, though there was one thing he'd been dying to find out since he'd first met Garland. It seemed the perfect time to ask, if he was willing to risk it. As much as he liked getting to know Kuja, things like home and friends and family were weighing more and more on him as of late. "Um… do you mind if I ask you something else?"

"You enjoy the sound of your own voice entirely too much," Kuja complained, but still he shut the book, putting it aside with a sigh. "As if I could stop you."

"Haha, real funny. So, well… uh," and Zidane began mindlessly tracing a pattern on the floor with his foot, "why Lindblum?"

"Why Lindblum what?"

"Why'd you take me to Lindblum and leave me there, when I was little?"

There was no answer. No sound even, as if they'd both held their breaths for a few heartbeats. Kuja shifted slightly on the sofa, and the creaking of the wood frame seemed as loud as a crash in the silence. Zidane looked up from where he'd been studying the worn rug to see his brother staring off into space. "Kuja?"

The mage turned to blink at Zidane, and the blonde was struck by the somewhat confused, somewhat haunted look in those slate blue eyes. "Why do you think?" Kuja finally responded, his voice flat.

"Garland said… he told me that you'd left me on Gaia because you felt threatened by me, by my potential."

"And you believed him?"

"Well…" Zidane briefly scratched the back of his head. "It kinda made sense at the time. And it wasn't like I could ask you, until now."

Kuja huffed. "Maybe he thought that that was the truth. It wasn't like he asked me to explain myself, nor did he care. Or maybe he's just a chronic liar... Unless you think he only lied to me about one little thing, that I'm not really going to drop dead any day now?" he asked bitterly.

"You know I don't believe that. But I think he didn't understand his own creations as well as he'd thought. The Black Mages didn't turn out the way you'd intended either…"

"Thanks for the reminder."

Zidane let it drop. It wasn't fair for him to throw Kuja's past transgressions in his face every time they started arguing. The last time he'd done it – while they were fighting about who ought to be doing the cooking, of all things – Kuja had gotten all worked up and barricaded himself in the bathroom while yelling that he was worthless and deserved to die. Zidane had been tempted to kick the door in but he'd been sick of catering to Kuja's hissyfits, so instead he'd sat outside the bathroom for over an hour, waiting for Kuja to get over himself, before the mage had finally, sulkily, crawled out. Zidane so didn't want a repeat of that. All the drama was exhausting. He knew that the other Genome was sorry about the things he'd done. It didn't help anyone or anything to remind him of his many misdeeds; all it did was make him to beat himself up over it.

"So why'd you do it then?" Zidane finally asked. He wanted to know the reason, because now that he thought about it, Garland's assumption didn't make much sense. If Kuja had truly been jealous of him or hated him, wouldn't he have simply killed him and been done with it?

"Oh, I don't know," Kuja sighed. "Why do you think?"

Zidane scowled. "Just tell me!"

"What's the point? I've lied to you as much as Garland has. What if I just lied to you again?" Kuja threw back.

Zidane shut his eyes a moment. It was so easy for his fellow Genome to push his buttons, but he knew if he didn't take the bait, Kuja would calm down too, and talk. Maybe he was trying to avoid the topic for some reason…?

"You won't," Zidane insisted. "Not now, not ever again. Not to me."

Kuja frowned, blinking owlishly. He hadn't expected the younger man to say something like that. How could he be so sure when even Kuja himself didn't know if he could hold up to such an expectation?

"Please. I want to know," Zidane said softly. "Even if Garland was right, that's okay too. I won't hold it against you, you know."

Kuja wrung his hands, something Zidane noted simply because he'd never seen the mage do that before, as he seemingly tried to make up his mind about something. Maybe he wanted to reveal the truth but didn't know how… or he feared how it would be received. Zidane reached out and lightly touched Kuja's shoulder, seeking to reassure him. Kuja started at the contact but didn't pull away.

"I didn't always hate him," the silver-haired man began hesitantly. He looked for his brother's reaction - in this case, a nod of acknowledgement - before going on. "In the beginning I tried to do everything he expected of me. But he was never satisfied. I didn't understand why. I didn't know… he wasn't ever going to accept me no matter what I did. After all I was a test subject, a defect, and he was going to get what use he could out of me before discarding me."

Kuja continued on. "What was so wrong with me? Did I sound insincere when I called him 'Master?' Did I not grovel fast enough or long enough for his liking? Or did he decide I wasn't worth keeping just because some fluke in my genetic programming gave me the wrong hair color, the wrong eye color?" Kuja reached up and twined a few long strands of hair around a finger, then yanked, hard. "I can't help this, you know. I didn't ask to be made like this."

Zidane shook his head slowly as his hand tightened on Kuja's arm of its own accord. He didn't have an answer. But at the same time, he couldn't stop the mental image that cropped up of Garland walking though the labs of Bran Bal, examining the Genomes growing in the capsules, stopping before Kuja's capsule and calculating whether he should simply dispose of the aberration within or keep it around to experiment on.

"If only I'd been created second… It must've been nice, being the beloved hero," Kuja sighed, but Zidane didn't fall for the trap. As wistful as it had sounded, the blonde knew it was a dig at him. Kuja wasn't going to stop baiting him just because they were on friendly terms now.

"Your canary is quite the catch, isn't she?" Kuja went on in his usual singsong way, as if nothing were amiss. "The rest of the bunch were rather ragtag though, but I suppose that couldn't be helped. Though perhaps the little Summoner girl has potential…"

It was one thing for Zidane to let an insult directed at him slide off his back. He wasn't nearly so forgiving when it came to his friends. "Hey, lay off! You don't get to pick on them anymore. They're all good people… and they're my friends."

Kuja snorted dismissively and flipped his hair back off his shoulders. He looked smug, his earlier sadness momentarily eclipsed by the satisfaction of getting a rise out of his brother.

Hearing the mage talking like that, his tone wavering between pained bitterness and fake cheer, Zidane understood why Garland had thought Kuja had hated him enough to abandon him on Gaia. It was pretty sad… though Kuja had never been anything but an adult, just like a child seeking a parent's affections, he had wanted his master's approval. He'd wanted recognition and praise. Instead he'd been used as a tool, with the knowledge hanging over him that he'd be replaced when he was no longer good enough. No, Kuja hadn't been totally truthful when he'd said he hadn't dumped Zidane on Gaia out of jealousy – there had to be some element of that in there – but even though he could've just killed Zidane and been done with it, he hadn't. So the truth had to lie somewhere between the two extremes. Kuja himself probably didn't really know his own reasons.

But there was one thing Zidane had figured out. Garland had been wrong about Kuja, and not just about his reasons for taking Zidane away and leaving him on Gaia. Their creator had derided Kuja for being inferior because he couldn't achieve Trance due to his inability to experience the complex emotions needed to fuel the change. But it wasn't that Kuja was incapable of experiencing them. Clearly, he had feelings like anyone else with a soul. But he had no clue what to do with them or how to control them, fluctuating wildly between moods all the time. It made him an unstable mess – dangerous and flippant, narcissistic and petty, yet childish and sad and deeply insecure. And Zidane was now the one stuck dealing with the fallout.

"You still didn't answer my question, you know," Zidane finally pointed out, after another minute of silence. He wasn't sure if Kuja had purposely evaded it again, or if he'd gotten caught up in himself as usual and completely forgotten about it.

Kuja glanced at him and began fidgeting again. "Oh, that. Well… honestly, I'm not sure why I did it. But that's not what you were hoping to hear, is it?"

The silver-haired man suddenly stood up and began pacing, his tail lashing about behind him. "Was I trying to save you? I knew he'd planned on starting your 'training' soon. Or maybe I didn't care about that at all; maybe I was only trying to save myself, by removing you from the equation. Or… maybe I just wanted to make Garland mad. I seemed to be good at that."

Kuja was right, it hadn't been what he'd wanted to hear, but Zidane still felt some relief. It appeared that he understood his brother more than he used to, although he still wasn't completely buying the explanation. "It sounds like it was a little bit of everything..."

"Maybe…" Kuja shrugged in an exaggerated manner, ending that portion of the conversation, then continued on in a silky smooth voice, "_Master_ Garland had been so displeased when I'd gotten back. There was no point in hiding it… who else would've done it? I didn't tell him where I'd left you though, not that it mattered… By the time he'd taken the Invincible to check the forests around Lindblum, you were long gone."

"Wait, if you didn't tell him, how did he know that I was around Lindblum?"

"That's a silly question, isn't it? There's plenty of ways to obtain information." Kuja tapped an index finger on the side of his head, then went on. "Be grateful he hadn't anyone else to send after you and was unwilling to risk revealing himself, or he might've found you."

"But… why did you go back? You could've just stayed on Gaia, in Lindblum, with me. Baku would have taken us both in, I'm sure."

"And what else, pray tell, would've kept Garland's attention long enough to buy time to ensure your escape?" Kuja suddenly snapped, a slight sob catching in his throat. He tried in vain to cover it up with a cough, then continued on in a more subdued voice, "Besides, he could track me far easier than you. So there was no choice, was there?"

Zidane sucked in a breath. He knew it… his brother really had wanted to save him from sharing his fate as Garland's puppet, despite all his claims to the contrary, despite the jealousy that kept rearing its head like a venomous snake.

"Kuja… what did he do to you?" Zidane whispered, thinking back to the time when he'd stupidly gone to confront Garland on his own and barely escaped being turned into an empty vessel. He still wasn't sure what Garland had done to try and purge his consciousness, and he didn't think he wanted to know. To know that his brother had shackled himself to the master he hated just to give him a shot at the freedom he'd so desperately craved was horrifying.

The mage's eyes narrowed slightly. "Once I had sufficiently recovered, he threw me out of Terra and banned me from returning," he replied, both answering and evading the question at the same time. "That didn't stop him from giving me orders and trying to ensure my obedience, but at least it meant I wouldn't be back in his lab."

Zidane couldn't help it. He stepped forward, threw his arms around Kuja and squeezed, hard. Though it was true that Kuja was guilty of many misdeeds, how different would things have been if someone had done for him what he'd done for Zidane? It shouldn't have taken 25 years for someone to care enough to offer him a helping hand.

Kuja jerked in surprise before cautiously relaxing into the embrace a little. He wasn't sure what Zidane wanted from him, so he figured it was best to wait and see what would happen. Zidane was starting to stroke his back slowly, as if he were a cat, and so it only felt natural for Kuja to turn his head and rub his cheek against Zidane's golden hair. It felt nice, being held by the younger Genome. He had a powerful, athletic body, though it was slim and compact too, and large hands that were surprisingly gentle. He was warm as a ray of sunshine. Kuja hesitantly began rubbing Zidane's back in return and was rewarded with a faint, contented sigh.

They stayed like that for a minute or two until Kuja broke the comfortable silence with a soft laugh. "You were always like this, even when you were little."

Zidane's hand stilled and he reluctantly pulled away to look up at his brother quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"You liked grabbing on to me however you could – by my leg, my tail, my clothes – and you'd hang on tightly and wouldn't let go. I'm not sure why you singled me out though..."

That was the first time he'd heard anything about what he'd been like as a baby. Kuja had always avoided the subject before. It made Zidane curious as to what life was like in Bran Bal. His only early childhood memory was a blue light, nothing more. Though at least the answer to Kuja's question was obvious. "Maybe it's because I liked you, then."

"Is that so?" Kuja's eyes were beginning to glimmer beneath heavy lids. "Do you still like me now?"

"Of course."

Kuja grinned. "Good. I like you too," he purred, pursing his lips as he gripped Zidane's shoulders and pulled him closer.

The blonde was so stunned by the turn of events that he barely managed to turn his head in time to avoid a mouth on mouth collision. "Wha… what are you doing?" he gasped as Kuja's lips glanced off his cheekbone.

"You said you liked me, didn't you? And I like you."

Zidane quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, but not like… like-like," he lamely protested. Great, now he sounded like a two-year-old. It was hard concentrating on vocabulary though when he could still feel Kuja's warm breath gusting against his cheek. He shivered slightly.

"Like-like? What does that even mean?"

Zidane felt his face flushing. "Uh… never mind."

Perplexed, Kuja frowned slightly, then tried again to reel Zidane in. The shorter Genome froze momentarily in disbelief before pushing away with a hiss. "Okay, seriously, it's not funny anymore!"

"You're right, it's not. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? Uh, hello? You're a guy? I'm a guy?"

Kuja rolled his eyes. "So?"

"So why are you trying to kiss me?"

"You tell me. You started this!"

Zidane was flabbergasted. "I started this?"

"You grabbed me first. And you said you liked me," Kuja said flatly.

The blonde stared at his hands helplessly a moment, as if they'd betrayed him by wandering where they shouldn't have. He didn't remember doing anything inappropriate… "It was a hug. Just a hug. And I don't like you like that. I mean, you're not even a girl!"

"Thanks for noticing. I'm glad I don't have to take my pants off to prove it this time."

"What? What does that… No, I mean… Damn, I don't even know what I mean anymore," Zidane stammered. He was starting to get confused. If Kuja had been a girl, would he have turned his head or pushed him away? Or would he have been receptive to his… er, her advances? What about Dagger?

Meanwhile Kuja just continued to stand there, scowling.

Zidane stared back. Even when angry, Kuja really did have a beautiful face. And… Zidane had no idea why he'd just thought that. "Why doesn't it bother you?"

"Why would it?"

Zidane frowned and took a half step back to look Kuja up and down. Genomes seemed to default to an androgynous or even slightly feminine build regardless of their gender, and Kuja was no exception. He was built like, well… a flat chested girl. He even had a tiny waist and curved hips like a woman would have, though his baggy clothing was obscuring that at the moment.

"Excuse me for being repulsive," Kuja said, shifting uneasily under the sudden scrutiny, pushing back limp bangs and smoothing down his ill-fitting shirt, as if a few adjustments would magically improve Zidane's perception of him. As if that were the problem.

The thief sighed. Kuja may have been many things, but repulsive was not one of them. "Believe me, you're not. It's just… well, we're both guys."

"And?"

"And I'm not into that!" Zidane yelled, louder than he'd intended.

Kuja jerked back, eyes narrowed. "You need to be more honest with yourself, Zidane," he snarled, taking in the younger man's flushed cheeks and the slight bulge in his pants. "But I get it now… This was all a mistake. You're just confused. You didn't mean what you did or said."

Zidane noticed what Kuja was looking at and immediately began squirming helplessly, trying to will it to go away. He couldn't believe what his body was doing… what the hell was going on? He sucked in a breath to continue arguing, decided against it, then abruptly turned tail and fled the house, ignoring Kuja's cry of, "Where are you going?" The blonde thought he had to be going crazy, stuck out in some gods forsaken wasteland with Kuja for months. That was the only explanation for it. He wasn't attracted to the older Genome, damn it!

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Author's Notes:

- I liked the scene after Zidane and co. rescue Lady Hilda because of her revelation that Kuja told her all his plans (that, and Hilda scolding / threatening Cid amused me greatly). There's two ways to interpret this, I suppose. One is Hilda's theory, that Kuja's so egotistical that he figured even if someone knew of his plans, there was no way of stopping him. But I don't think that's a complete explanation… Kuja's a pretty smart guy (and not the Riddler), so I don't see why he'd go babbling to Hilda just to stroke his ego. The other possibility, the one I think is the main reason, is that he's so lonely that he resorted to talking to his prisoner, for lack of anyone else to talk to. Logically he should've just killed her or something if all he wanted was her airship (Hilda says that she didn't believe her abduction was part of his plan) – it's not like he had any qualms about killing people off - but since she was a good listener, he didn't mind dragging her around with him.

- One of the mental hurdles I had to overcome when I first started writing this story is the fact that I see Zidane as straight… mostly. He clearly loves the ladies; gone unchallenged, he'd happily chase skirt for the rest of his life. I didn't want to flip a switch and make him magically, exclusively gay. But I think (assuming you buy that he'd have some previously unexplored inclination to some degree of bisexuality) he could be open minded to possibilities and change as well. And I think Kuja's androgynous enough in both appearance and mannerism to kind of sneak in under the radar and shake up Zidane's perceptions enough to allow for something to develop. Well... at least I'm not asking Zidane to make eyes at Steiner? : )

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews, as always, are appreciated!


	4. Ch 3: I Can't Live With You

Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" and "I Can't Live With You" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 3: I Can't Live With You**

* * *

Zidane ran and ran until he exhausted himself. By the time he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't see any sign of the house at all, not even a curl of smoke from the chimney. The part of the path he'd been sprinting along had obviously lain unused for quite some time, being overgrown with clumps of dead weeds that poked out of the thin layer of late season snow. He wasn't quite sure where he was, nor how much further the path would go on. Not that it mattered. The sun was already setting. There wasn't really anywhere else to go but back to the old house he'd been sharing with Kuja.

He finished looking around, then, in the interest of not freezing his tush and tail off on the ice covered boulders, gingerly crouched down to think. Zidane prided himself on being really easy going and tolerant, but Kuja had somehow managed to push him too far. And what sucked even more was the fact that it had happened during the course of a meaningful conversation, one that had given Zidane a new perspective on who Kuja really was. Or at least, that's what Zidane had thought he'd been seeing…

Had Kuja simply been playing with him, plying him with lies? Zidane considered it a brief moment before dismissing it. _No… _Although he had no doubt that Kuja was a pretty good actor, there was no mistaking the genuine rawness of the older man's emotions when he'd said he had returned to Garland to give a then 4-year-old Zidane a better chance at escaping. He hadn't made up that story. He really had sacrificed himself for Zidane's sake.

But then right on the heels of that came the mess / misunderstanding that had sent Zidane running. He still wasn't sure how things had gotten so out of control. All he'd been trying to do was to make Kuja feel better, to remind him that he now had a friend he could count on. But Kuja had somehow had misread that as Zidane making a pass at him, and then gotten mad that younger Genome had mislead him. Zidane shook his head. Was it really possible that Kuja didn't understand the concept of friendship? There was no way he could be that clueless. Surely, at some point… he must've befriended someone, somewhere.

But try as he might, Zidane couldn't remember ever seeing Kuja socializing or being friendly with anyone. He saw other people only as tools to be used, controlled or manipulated, just as he'd been Garland's tool.

And as much as the blonde hated to admit it, although he'd hugged Kuja as a friend, the reaction his body had had had nothing to do with friendship. So who was the real liar?

… Well, if he HAD to pick a guy to make out with…

_Ugh, no way! Why am I even wondering about it? Maybe I really HAVE been stuck out here too long, _Zidane yelled at himself in exasperation. But he kind of felt bad for dismissing it so readily too. If that was how Kuja was, well, he couldn't help it. And it didn't really change things did it? Hell, they'd been sleeping in the same bed for months now and nothing bad had happened, so as long as Zidane went back and explained himself clearly, they could go on living as they'd been.

But what if Kuja did want more? He hadn't been opposed to it when he'd thought Zidane had been making a pass at him. He'd even said that he liked Zidane, and not in the friendship sense. The thief didn't want to hurt Kuja's feelings, but there was no avoiding it – there was just no way they could have a relationship. Zidane still had every intention of returning to Dagger, of finally telling her - clearly - just how he felt. But he couldn't back to her until he knew Kuja would be okay without him. And yet he'd run off and just left his fellow Genome behind over a stupid misunderstanding… and it was getting darker and colder with each passing minute.

With a heavy sigh, Zidane stood up and began running back up the path.

* * *

It was well into the evening by the time Zidane managed to pick his way back to the house. It was even darker inside than it was outside as the fire in the hearth had burned down to mere embers. Zidane quickly tossed in a few logs and got it going again, then looked around for his brother, though he didn't have to look far. Kuja was curled up in a ball on the floor next to the sofa, pretty much where Zidane had left him. The blonde crouched down beside him. Kuja refused to look up or acknowledge him.

Zidane sighed softly and reached out to lay a hand on Kuja's shoulder. The silver-haired man flinched and jerked back as soon as it made contact, but gave no other response. Zidane frowned. "Hey, I know you're awake. Come on, talk to me."

"Why?" Kuja croaked, refusing to unfurl. Even his tail was curled up defensively around him.

"Please? I don't want to apologize to the top of your head."

The feathers atop Kuja's mane quivered a little as he lifted his head a bit, just enough so he could peek out from the barricade formed by his arms. Zidane tilted his head to look at him. He couldn't be sure, but Kuja's eyelids looked a little puffy...

"You… came back," Kuja said slowly, his voice still muffled.

Zidane nodded. "Yeah. Listen, I…"

Kuja suddenly gave a dry chuckle. "Ah, I suppose you did leave all your things here."

The younger man sighed again. "Kuja, I'm not going anywhere. You still need my help."

"Your help? I don't need it. I don't want anything from you!"

"Do you _seriously_ have to argue with me on every little thing?" Zidane snapped back. Kuja's mood swings drove him crazier than anything else on Gaia.

Immediately Kuja rolled back up into a tight ball. "Fine then, go away! Leave me alone!" he spat, the words barely discernable once again.

Zidane's head dropped to his chest. He shouldn't have lost his temper. He didn't have the right when he was the one who needed to apologize. He let out a huge sigh. "Okay, let me try that again. I'm sorry. I really am. I shouldn't have walked off earlier, and I shouldn't have snapped at you just now. Please, Kuja… forgive me?" Seeing that his words weren't getting through, the thief decided to try a different tactic. Actions spoke louder than words after all.

He reached out again and rested his hand on Kuja's hair and began stroking it slowly. He knew Kuja responded to physical contact better than anything else. He just hoped that a few pats on the head would be safe enough and wouldn't be misconstrued as something else. But after a few seconds, Zidane's hand stilled. His brow furrowed. Why was Kuja's hair so cold to the touch?

"Kuja?" Zidane's hands slid down to firmly rest on the other Genome's shoulders, then flew down over his arms. It was chilly in the house, yes, but Kuja was even colder, as if he'd been out in the snow or something. Zidane checked him over even more carefully. Kuja's pants were damp at the knee and ankle. And he was trembling faintly from more than just being upset. "You didn't go outside did you?"

Kuja finally responded in a low voice. Zidane strained to hear him. "I yelled for you to come back. I said I was sorry. But you didn't stop. I started to follow, but…"

"You're gonna make yourself sick again!" Zidane gasped, but he stopped short of making it a lecture and instead hopped to his feet to grab the blanket off the sofa, which he draped over Kuja's shoulders. Then he disappeared into the bedroom a minute before returning with a pair of socks and pants. "Come on, put these on."

The older man finally looked up and accepted the change of clothing. He didn't look happy about it, but he went ahead and complied instead of arguing back.

Kuja wasn't healthy. That was no secret. He must've run after Zidane until he'd gotten too tired to go on, then dragged himself back to the house. Zidane's instinct was to pull him into a hug, but he forced himself to refrain from doing so. The last thing he needed was to complicate things even more when they hadn't had a chance to clear the air on the previous incident. So instead he sat down on the sofa with the mage and got the blanket around both their shoulders before going back to petting the long silver hair. He even wrapped his tail around Kuja's, trying to warm that up as well.

"I'm sorry. I really am an idiot. I didn't mean to worry you this much," Zidane said sincerely.

"Who says I was worried?"

Zidane just smiled. "You really do drive me nuts, you know that? But that doesn't matter. I know I get mad at you, but that's only 'cause I care about you and worry about you." He paused, then added, "Would it be okay if I hugged you? You're really cold. It'd help warm you up faster, but… it's just a hug, okay?"

Kuja shrugged, but went ahead and initiated the hug this time, slinging an arm around Zidane's shoulders. Zidane hesitated a moment, wondering if anything else would happen, but when the other Genome didn't try anything, Zidane reached over and pulled Kuja closer, until Kuja leaned his head against Zidane's and shut his eyes. "I can't stay mad at you. But I don't understand you either. You saved my life when you had no reason to at all; you've taken care of me for months… even though you have a lovely little canary waiting at home for you. Why would you go to such lengths for someone like me? Why give me another chance?"

No matter how many times Kuja asked, the answer was the same. "Because you wanted to make amends, and I wanted you to have that chance," Zidane automatically replied. Then he paused, thought about it, and added, "And because… I'm your friend. This is what friends do, you know?"

"I don't know. I haven't had any."

Zidane swallowed a sigh. He'd wondered about that just a while ago, and now he had his answer. But knowing definitely didn't make him feel better. "Well, now you know what it's like to have one, okay?" he finally said.

Kuja snorted tiredly. "You say that, but part of you was interested in what I was offering."

"A wet, sloppy kiss?" Zidane tried joking.

"I was trying to give you what you wanted, because you said you liked me."

"But you understand what I meant now, don't you?" Zidane waited until Kuja gave a hesitant nod, then added, "Although it's okay with me if you're into that sort of thing. I mean, I'm not going to think badly of you just because of that. Just… I'm not one of those people."

"'Those people'…" Kuja tsked softly, then lightly nuzzled Zidane's hair. He tried not to laugh at the lack of negative reaction. It made no sense that Zidane would complain about a kiss but be fine with cuddling. "One kiss won't kill you. And honestly… if you haven't tried it, how can you say you wouldn't like it? It really makes very little difference if it's with a guy or a girl, you know. Even moreso if you like women with beards."

Zidane rolled his eyes, though he managed to refrain from pulling back or pushing Kuja away. Even with the fire and the blanket, Kuja wasn't warming up as fast as Zidane would've liked. "What's with you and wanting to kiss me?"

Kuja smiled, but grew a little more serious. "Even though I don't understand you, and we get on each other's nerves more often than not, I'm still grateful you're here. I've never had anyone worry about me. I wanted to do something for you, to thank you, and I figured… Well, it's not like I have much else to offer you at this time..."

"Saying thanks is enough. I don't need anything else."

"It's not," Kuja insisted.

"It is for me. Besides, I can't imagine kissing someone if I don't even… like-like them, you know?"

"Why?"

Zidane did pull back at that, just enough to give his fellow Genome a look. "Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. Kuja could fib at the drop of a hat. He did it so naturally it was impossible to tell half the time if he was being truthful or not.

"It's not a big deal. It's quite easy, actually, to do it and make it convincing."

"Of course it's a big deal! I mean, if you could do that, then…" Zidane just stared at his brother, remembering how he used to dress, flashing so much skin that it'd make a cabaret dancer blush. It was nearly as revealing as some of the Terran clothing Zidane had spied on their fellow Genomes but far, far flashier. And something that had lain in the back of his mind for many weeks suddenly sprung up again. _Appearances matter. My attire was chosen for practical reasons._ "You couldn't have… You didn't, did you…?"

"Didn't what?" Kuja asked, but when Zidane glanced over at him, it was clear from his expression that he knew exactly what the thief was asking.

"You know what! Quit being difficult."

"Hmph. What does it matter to you? Don't try to pretend to be noble. Sex is merely another way to wrest power."

"It does matter! I couldn't imagine doing something like that without at least really, _really_ liking the other person."

The silver-haired man sighed dramatically, as if he were dealing with a child. "Would you have preferred that I simply killed them all instead?"

"That's not funny! Kuja…"

"No, what's funny is you thinking poorly of me for using what I easily have at my disposal to engage in a common activity that benefits both parties."

Zidane had never heard of lovemaking being described so clinically and… verbosely before. "Benefits?"

"I usually am quite good at whatever I set my mind to," Kuja sniffed, offended. "Besides, you only gain their confidence if you can first satisfy their desires, whatever they may be."

Kuja hadn't mentioned feeling love, desire, or even pleasure. "But… why? Why would you go to such lengths?" the younger man asked.

"I wasn't nearly as powerful as you think, not when I first began my campaign here. Let me remind you, I couldn't even enter Trance until recently. What did you think I was collecting Eidolons for? Why did I need an army of Black Mages? I needed power, and lots of it. So while I honed my magic I also learned to persuade, to manipulate… and if a silver tongue weren't enough to do the trick, well, there was always the body that came with it." Kuja paused in his rambling to catch his breath, then added, "It really did turn out to be the simplest and most effective route in many cases."

Zidane frowned, but stayed silent as he thought back on Kuja's earlier, tasteless joke… and then his mind went to a bad, bad place. "Please don't tell me… Queen Brahne…" he gasped out, shaking his head as if that'd dislodge the mental image of his brother making romantic moves on Dagger's rather… generously sized mother.

Kuja glared at that but didn't answer. Zidane wasn't sure if he ought to be relieved or not. Either the other Genome was offended at his presumption, or he really had gone through with it and didn't want to remember that he'd resorted to such a measure.

"Never mind. Don't answer that." Zidane reached up to rub at his forehead. Kuja's brand of logic never failed to give him a headache. "Okay, I get that you don't respect anyone else. But how could you do that to yourself?"

Kuja's face darkened a moment, then grew thoughtful. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "Why did Garland give me… us - free will if we weren't supposed to use it? But free will meant nothing when I was tethered on a leash like a dog." He sighed. Considering the amount of time he'd spent carefully plotting his master's demise, he'd never gotten to enjoy his hard won freedom. Even in death, Garland had managed to cast one last noose around his neck. He still couldn't shake the feeling that Death was always a half step behind him and ready to wrap cold hands around his throat.

"In the end, it's my body and my decision to use it however I please," the older Genome finally managed to croak, swallowing hard.

"I guess," Zidane mumbled as he leaned back against Kuja a little, before reaching over for a strand of hair to play with. He didn't know why, but it was kind of relaxing, just stroking Kuja's hair. "You should be a little nicer to yourself though."

Kuja just laughed, though it wasn't a happy sound. "I've only ever been nice to myself." He glanced at Zidane and shrugged. "But at least you don't have to worry about it anymore. No one on Gaia is going to fall for the 'charms' of a beat up, washed up, former Angel of Death. Even you don't want me, and you're the only person who can even tolerate being in my presence."

"Don't say that."

"Well it's true, isn't it? You won't even let me show you some gratitude… you'd rather run off and freeze to death out in the snow, you dolt."

"Geez, I said I'm sorry you know," Zidane grumbled. "Look, what can I do to make it up to you?" He regretted saying that as soon as the words were out of his mouth though, because Kuja instantly turned and began eyeing him critically. "Um…"

"Let me try it, just once. If you truly hate it, I'll never ask to do it again."

Zidane made a face. But he'd kind of talked himself into a corner, and they both knew it. And he really did feel bad about running off earlier instead of just sticking around to talk things through. If something had happened to him, it would've been a death sentence for Kuja too.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… argh, fine! Just _once_, Kuja. And you gotta give me your word on it."

"Just once, but only if you hate it."

The blonde stared at the older man's mouth, at the satisfied smirk pulling at the corners. "Believe me, I'm not planning on liking it. And you'd better not try and slip me some tongue or anything weird like that."

Kuja chuckled, but responded in a gentle tone, "Just close your eyes. You don't even have to kiss back if you don't want to, so just relax." He leaned in and nuzzled Zidane's hair again, then quickly gave it a light kiss as well. "That of course didn't count. It was just a warm up."

"Fine, whatever." Though Zidane still had his doubts, he'd given his assent, so he would follow through with it though really, he just wanted to get it over with. He shifted over so that they now sat facing one another, then squeezed his eyes closed. He licked his lips in nervous anticipation, half expecting Kuja to just dive in with reckless enthusiasm… but that didn't happen.

_This is absolutely crazy, _Zidane thought, feeling one of Kuja's hands lightly grip his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek. He wondered what Dagger would think if she were to find out. Well, she'd probably flip out over the fact that Kuja was still alive more than anything. So relatively speaking, a single kiss would be at most only a minor problem. Except maybe for the fact that he'd never gotten the chance to kiss her ye…

The lips that suddenly pressed against his were unexpectedly soft, plush even. Zidane was surprised. He thought it'd be disgusting, being kissed by a man. He thought Kuja would smell and taste of sweat or something nasty like that. But… well, the initial impression wasn't bad. Maybe Kuja was right. Maybe it wasn't all that different from kissing a girl.

Kuja began rubbing small circles against Zidane's cheek with his thumb. His mouth started moving against Zidane's as well – not too forcefully, but with just enough heat and pressure to coax a similar response. He was a damn good kisser – unhurried and focused and gentle, confident in his technique but not pushy or overbearing. Zidane found his lips parting slightly to breathe in Kuja's breath before massaging them against Kuja's mouth in return. His tongue darted out briefly to taste Kuja's lips.

There was a soft, breathy moan. Zidane wasn't sure who'd made the sound. It didn't really matter. All he knew was by the time he pulled back for a much needed gulp of air, one of his hands had knotted itself around a handful of long, silky hair. His face felt a little hot. He raised a hand to his mouth in surprise, his mind suddenly clearing when he felt how moist his lips were, the realization of what he'd done slapping him back into reality.

Kuja on the other hand didn't look flustered at all. He had a maddeningly triumphant smile on his face, like a cat that'd just eaten a canary. Out of the corner of his eye, Zidane could see a silvery tail tip flicking about. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Kuja purred. He paused a second, and Zidane suddenly knew what was coming next. "So can we do it again?"

The thief groaned. "No!"

"But you said…"

Zidane groaned again. He knew he shouldn't have given in! Now Kuja would never quit asking or pushing for more. "Not now, okay? I'm… I'm still trying to figure out how this all happened."

"Does it matter? I enjoyed it. You did too."

"Okay, I'm willing to admit it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. But that doesn't mean…" and Zidane hesitated, trying to think of the best way to explain without hurting the other Genome's feelings. "Kuja, can I ask you something? It's really important."

The Cheshire Cat grin softened into a genuine smile that warmed even the normally cold slate in Kuja's eyes. "Of course. Anything."

Zidane sighed. He didn't want to see that smile fade, but at the same time, he felt it was best to just tell the mage the truth now instead of letting him hang on to false hope. "Kuja… are you in love with me?" he asked quietly.

A silver eyebrow twitched and then went up. "What are you talking about?"

"The way you've been acting… I like you, you're my friend, but… this… what we just did, isn't going to change things," Zidane quickly blurted out. "I love Dagger; you know that. And one day, I'm gonna go back to her and tell her how I feel and ask her to marry me." He took a deep breath, mentally cringing in anticipation of the inevitable explosion, and looked back up. Kuja was staring at him as if he were try to decipher an impossible puzzle. Zidane stared back, trying to figure out what that look meant. Had he been too blunt still? "Um, are you okay? I didn't mean to be so forward, but I didn't want you to misunderstand…"

Another half minute passed before Kuja finally made a move, waving his hand dismissively in the air to break the unintentional stalemate. The smile on his face had reverted back to that of a predatory cat, broad and full of teeth. "How sweet of you! I appreciate your concern. But don't worry, you can't break my heart or anything. Love is impossible for someone like me."

"That's not true."

"Of course it is. Didn't Garland tell you? I'm not capable of experiencing emotions of that complexity," Kuja chided him. "If I could, why wouldn't I have Tranced a lot sooner, and on my own?"

Zidane shook his head sadly. While he couldn't explain the latter, he didn't believe the former at all. And he'd learned by now that when Kuja sounded that cheerful, that glib, he was really only trying to avoid facing how he really felt.

Sometimes Zidane almost missed how Kuja was when he'd first woken up after being rescued from the Iifa Tree, when he'd been in too much pain to try and hide what he was thinking and feeling. Not that he wanted Kuja hurting like that again, but he missed the honesty. They got along far better now, but it almost felt like their friendship was built on a bed of pretty lies.

"Somewhere, there's gotta be someone that's right for you too. And I hope you find them someday and live happily with them," Zidane mumbled. Even he wasn't convinced with what he was saying, nor could he muster up the false conviction needed to make it sound better. "But… I'm not that person. I can't be. And I didn't want you getting your hopes up or anything, so that's why…"

Kuja snorted. "What hopes? I only figured, with your reputation as a ladies man and all, that you would be a fairly skilled kisser. I wanted to see for myself if that were true. There's nothing wrong with wanting to partake in a little physical enjoyment every now and then right?"

Zidane scratched his head. He supposed Kuja had a point. The kiss had been better than the blonde had anticipated, and they both obviously were gluttons for physical contact. "I guess not."

The silver tail began lashing about once more. "So does that mean we can kiss again?"

Zidane stopped to think about it some more. He couldn't take his eyes off Kuja's face, at the eagerness there, at the slight hint of anxiety that put a fine crease in his brow. He instantly wanted to soothe it away. "Don't push it – don't ask for anything more, you got that? – and, well, maybe I'll agree to it once in a while."

Kuja's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Zidane nodded. Seeing the older Genome so happy made him feel good too, and he now felt a lot more optimistic about his decision. Maybe it really would be okay, as long as he made sure the boundaries were clearly defined. As long as he enforced them. "Yeah, really."

"Then how about right now?"

"See, you're being pushy again," Zidane scolded, but he couldn't help but laugh when Kuja gave him a slight pout. He really was as cute as a girl sometimes. Zidane couldn't resist giving him a quick peck because of it. He just hoped that'd be enough to tide him over for the time being. He really didn't feel like doing more at the moment. "There, better?"

"Well, it'll do for now," Kuja said, but he seemed satisfied. He even snuggled up against Zidane with a contented sigh, their earlier dispute all but forgotten.

Zidane wrapped his arms around the taller man, relieved he was finally warmed back up and resting comfortably. But even as he held Kuja the younger man forced himself to focus on Dagger for a moment instead. He felt a little uneasy every time her face flashed through his mind. He did love her. He missed her. He hoped she'd forgive him for everything he'd screwed up: for worrying her by diving back into the Iifa Basin, for staying behind to nurse Kuja back to health. For kissing Kuja when he hadn't even kissed her, when he hadn't ever told her how much he needed her in his life. He wanted his old life back, but he'd gotten used to his life with Kuja too. He just didn't know if he could reconcile the two…

And although he had warned Kuja not to fall in love with him, he wasn't sure if the warning had come too late… or if Kuja had been his intended target in the first place.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

- A shout out Doctor Haifisch, whose fic "Rose Petals of Regret" helped me make up my mind on whether or not Kuja would be willing to do _anything_ for power. On one hand, it could easily be argued that Kuja was far too proud and narcissistic to ever consider demeaning himself for money, power, position, etc. Certainly it's undeniable that he's a narcissist and powerful in his own right (though I always thought that, out of Trance, he wasn't nearly as powerful as everyone assumed he was). But on the other hand, I'd argue that he could also be the type who'd be willing to resort to any means necessary, because he's erratic and crazy enough to consider going to extreme lengths, and so focused on his goals that he'd decide that the ends justified the means.

- Although this story really is more about Kuja than Zidane, I think I prefer setting my "camera" over Zidane's shoulder because I like viewing Kuja through his eyes. Plus, I think it'd be overly complicated to do the reverse for the duration of the whole story, though of course I'll continue to flip flop as needed depending on the scene. I see Kuja as someone who is so used to lying that he can't even be honest with himself, and so emotionally damaged that he can't easily understand or accept the things Zidane's trying to tell him. Not that Zidane's being completely honest with himself here either; I see him as someone who deals with uncomfortable situations by being "conveniently dense."

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews are appreciated!


	5. Ch 4: Pain Is So Close to Pleasure

Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" and "Pain Is So Close to Pleasure" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 4: Pain Is So Close to Pleasure**

* * *

The last of the snow finally melted as winter lost its grip upon the Outer Continent. Forced, prolonged inactivity obviously didn't suit Zidane – as soon as it warmed up he began venturing out much more frequently, for longer periods of time, exploring the nearby areas and picking fights with whatever monsters he came across. Kuja on the other hand had never been the athletic nor adventurous type, so he had no desire to join the spry blonde on his trips. He excused himself by saying he didn't feel up to exploring quite yet and instead sat at home and worried about the future, all while trying not to panic whenever Zidane stayed out a little later than expected.

Truthfully, Kuja wasn't feeling that bad at all, at least physically, but he was rightfully worried that he'd never fully recover. He still could not use any magic nor any of his other latent abilities, like the telepathy he'd always taken for granted. His last attempt, he'd insisted on trying to heal some minor wounds Zidane had sustained in a scrap with a pair of Trolls. The effort had rendered him unconscious for nearly two days. When he'd finally awakened, Zidane had chewed him out thoroughly before begging him to stop with the magic lest he do some permanent damage, but Kuja had had a hard time agreeing to that. He couldn't afford to lose his magic when it had been his only defense for so many years, and now that he'd made the whole world his enemy, he needed it more than ever.

But Zidane was probably closer to the truth than he'd realized. Kuja wondered if Garland had done to him that which he'd done to the Black Mages… and if that made it irony or karma? The Black Mages had been animated by the Mist that used to cover parts of Gaia. Their magic drew internally from that same source. The more they used their powers, the faster they wore out. So if he were correct in his assumption, and if Garland had been truthful that he'd die soon, then that had to mean that he didn't have the life force to spare to power his magic. Even attempting one more low level spell could be enough to kill him. It was a hard truth to stomach, but Kuja bet even Zidane would say that he'd deserved it. That he'd reaped what he'd sowed.

Some days it was hard to keep from being overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. Kuja found himself hastily penning note after note detailing his last wishes, only to throw each and every one of them into the fire, as if by putting the words on paper he'd created a death curse that needed to be expunged. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to dwell on it. He didn't want Zidane to think he'd given up and to give up on him in turn. But he couldn't get it out of his head either; there was no fire that could burn away those thoughts completely.

So the mage – now former mage - tried a different tactic. He threw himself into all the previously neglected chores, washing and tailoring their clothes, sweeping up and cleaning up as best he could. They didn't look any more stylish nor the house any less rundown, but at least they were all a little more presentable and comfortable than before. He even agreed to try his hand at cooking, though he really had no clue what he was doing, and they ended up eating cheese sandwiches more often than not. Kuja was surprised that Zidane didn't complain about that, and even moreso every time the younger man thanked him for his efforts and happily ate whatever was put in front of him. Kuja wasn't sure if Zidane was doing it to be polite, but it felt nice, being appreciated just for trying, even if all he was doing was screwing up.

Zidane really did appreciate what Kuja was trying to do, but sometimes he wondered if his smiles were slipping and his anxiety showing through. The whole situation felt awkward. He didn't want to play house and have Kuja as his docile housewife, greeting him at the door with a kiss whenever he came back with firewood or supplies… though he had to admit he'd gotten used to both the kisses and being greeted upon his return. And Kuja wasn't exactly docile, not even when he was being more agreeable like he'd been as of late. But it was hard reconciling the man who'd once been powerful enough to destroy entire planets with the one kneeling in front of the bathtub, wringing out the laundry, his long hair neatly tucked under a repurposed handkerchief.

More than once, the blonde thought to himself that if he hadn't met Dagger, hadn't fallen in love with her, that he might have considered staying with Kuja in their quiet little sanctuary instead. He'd grown comfortable in their life together and worried about what would happen once he left, even if it were only for a short while, like he'd planned. He didn't know how well Kuja could manage on his own, given his lack of fighting prowess sans magic and the general state of his health. And if anyone were to see him and recognize him – not impossible given that they were a two day's walk away from the Black Mage Village – and spread the news that he was still alive, it would be a total disaster. Kuja would be lucky if he got away with a sentence of life imprisonment in a dungeon somewhere. Zidane couldn't let that happen. Not that he thought that Kuja deserved to get away scot free, but executing him wasn't going to undo the damage that had been done or bring back the lives that had been lost.

But it wasn't just his desire to protect Kuja that was making Zidane delay his return. It was no longer enough that Kuja "survived"… Zidane wanted him to find happiness too. Not that he hadn't wanted that before as well, but… that first kiss had really changed things. Zidane no longer thought of Kuja as a brother, and even "friend" was no longer a sufficient term either. Kuja meant more to him than that. He was someone special. And Zidane felt… he felt… well, he supposed he really did like him. Loved him, even - though not that kind of love. That would be impossible. He couldn't feel that way about another man, and he was in love with Dagger anyhow.

… So why didn't he didn't mind kissing the older man and sharing a bed with him even though they didn't need to do so any longer? Why did he feel compelled to touch his hair or to gather him up into a hug whenever he could? Why did he like stealing glances at him? Why did being with him just feel so comfortable and right?

And what did Kuja think of him? How did he feel? He'd said before that he liked Zidane and of course he'd been the one to initiate the whole kissing thing, but at the same time he'd also claimed that he couldn't feel love and was only interested in sharing some physical pleasure. Was the silver-haired Genome so desperate for some affection or attention that doing anything with anyone would suffice? Or was he equally confused as Zidane, feeling something but not knowing what to do about it or if he could even find the words to describe it? Zidane didn't see a point in asking since Kuja rarely gave straight answers. And the younger man wasn't sure if he wanted to know anyhow. The truth might only complicate things even more.

It was far easier to concentrate instead on the things that he did understand, that he could do something about. Zidane couldn't even think about leaving Kuja and returning home without first making sure that the former mage could handle getting supplies and defending himself from roaming monsters along the way. And Zidane also needed to consider where he could find Kuja refuge – some place where he'd be safe and welcomed. He couldn't expect him to stay out here in the middle of nowhere forever. That was no way to live. But it'd take time to weigh all the options…

For the time being, he could at least tackle the first two things on his list. That meant figuring out the best way to disguise Kuja so that he could make trips down to the Dwarven outpost and figuring out what kind of weapons would suit him, perhaps something like a staff or a rod. And although Kuja didn't have any hand to hand combat experience, Zidane figured it couldn't be too hard to teach him some basic moves. Kuja was smart. And he had plenty of free time to practice if he'd put down the broom and books once in a while. Zidane didn't anticipate there'd be any problems with his plans.

* * *

After considering what items the supply outpost had available, Zidane bought a pair of Magician Cloaks as well as a Multina Racket and an Oak Staff. The cloaks would suffice as disguises for the time being – the Dwarves had never seen Kuja during his reign of terror so really the main concern was to keep any traveling Black Mages or Genomes from spotting them, especially if they ended up venturing closer to Conde Petie, which served as a trading hub for all the peoples in the area. And the weapons seemed to be reasonable choices for a beginner to work with. The flimsier, magic bolt flinging racket was ideal for distance attacks – Zidane thought that would feel most natural to Kuja – while the staff was there as backup, in case Kuja was forced into close range combat. The blonde figured that would be the most logical set up for Kuja, but once they'd had their first training session the next morning, he began to wonder if he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

Zidane was used to the way he and his Tantalus brothers had trained, so it hadn't occurred to him to do things differently with Kuja. After they'd gone through the basics like stance and grip, Zidane figured they could try sparring a little so he could get a better sense of what Kuja's innate fighting ability was like.

"Okay, I'm gonna make this real easy. I'm going to stand right here, and you swing at me."

One of Kuja's eyebrows went up. "Um, are you sure…?"

"Of course I'm not going to let you _hit_ me. I just want to see what you can do." Zidane stretched both his arms across his chest, then squared his shoulders and bent his knees a little, bouncing slightly where he stood. "Okay, give it your best shot, whenever you're ready."

The taller man didn't look entirely convinced, but after checking that his grip on the weapon was the way Zidane had showed him – firm and balanced, but not so tight that his wrists locked in place – he went ahead and planted his feet and took a swing.

Kuja had seen Zidane in action many times before, but it still amazed him just how fast the younger Genome could move. Zidane instantly dropped into a very low crouch to duck under Kuja's swing, then immediately unsheathed his daggers, spun them, and swiftly brought the butt ends up into the underside of Kuja's right arm before he even realized Zidane was retaliating.

The taller man immediately let out a cry, dropped his weapon, and took a step back, his left hand clamping down near the twinging spot on his arm. He looked stunned and stricken. "You hit me?" he yelped. "I can't believe you did that!"

Zidane rolled his eyes. Kuja's reaction was a bit much. He'd barely tapped him. "Uh, yeah, monsters aren't going to stand there and wait their turn to attack you, you know."

"I thought we were just practicing!" Kuja protested.

"We are."

"So shouldn't you… pull your punches or whatever?"

"I did. We'd be calling you 'Stumpy' right now if I'd been serious." Zidane flipped his daggers back around before resheathing them, then waved a few wayward strands of hair out of his face. Kuja took a half step back at the motion, looking betrayed. Zidane sighed. "Suck it up, this is how Tantalus does things. This is how I was trained, you know."

"It's how I was trained too. That doesn't mean I want to go through it again!"

Zidane blinked. "Really?"

"What, do you think Garland nicely asked me to go read up on magic and then pat me on my head and sent me on my way?" Kuja spat. His face was getting pretty red, and the tears that had welled up in his eyes right after Zidane had landed his blow were now threatening to spill over. Surely the blonde knew he didn't have shields anymore. He'd probably never be able to erect them again. There was nothing he could do if Zidane wanted to test his defensive capabilities the way Garland had.

"Well, no, but…" Zidane scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry, I probably did overdo it. I thought it'd be helpful if we could spar with each other. But you only just started out today, so it's probably too soon. It wasn't going to be a fair fight no matter how you look at it."

Kuja just stared at him for a minute, frowning and absentmindedly rubbing his arm. "That's really how you were trained?" he finally asked in a quiet voice when Zidane stepped up and took a hold of his arm to check if he'd actually done some damage.

Zidane paused to consider the question, then quickly finished his examination of the sore spot. It'd probably bruise a bit, but it wasn't a big deal. He had held back after all. "Yeah, pretty much. Other than Ruby, it was all boys. We were really rowdy. So Baku's idea of keeping order was to smack us all in the back of the head every so often but otherwise, he'd just let us beat each other up as we pleased. You learn to dodge pretty fast when there's only one cookie left and you know everyone's gonna try to punch you in the face because they want it too. Actually Baku was the worst of the bunch, now that I think about it. He almost always got the last cookie, damn it."

"So I delivered you from Garland and straight into the hands of barbarians, is that what you're saying?"

Zidane simply shook his head and kissed Kuja's arm. Just that small gesture caused him to visibly relax, just a little. The blonde hid his growing smile. It was cute that Kuja was worried that he'd done the wrong thing in taking him from Terra. But he was wrong if he thought Zidane was complaining. "It sounds worse than it was. We're pretty much family, you know? We weren't really going to hurt one another. We were just trying to toughen each other up."

"So that's what you were trying to do? Toughen me up?"

"Kinda. But it was underhanded, not telling you that I might hit back."

"I see… Well, it's not like Garland warned me either. I'm pretty sure that's why I picked up white magic much faster than black," Kuja said casually, though he still looked like he was going to flee if Zidane so much as looked at his daggers again.

Zidane stared at him. Kuja had this amazing way of verbally punching him right in the gut sometimes. The thief hadn't realized… hadn't thought that his actions would be taken that way. His Tantalus brothers would've called what he'd done tough love, but Kuja seemed to see it as the prelude to a torture session. Garland's training methods must've been beyond brutal, though as always, Kuja refused to say anything more about it.

"Hey, come on. It's not like that. I'm not trying to hurt you. You know that." Zidane ran his fingers through the ends of Kuja's hair, then very gently tugged on a strand until Kuja lowered his chin to look at him. The blonde quickly took advantage of that to rise up on his toes and kiss Kuja on the mouth, but this time, a kiss wasn't enough to smooth out the worried crease on Kuja's forehead. "I'll come up with a different way to train, okay?" Zidane promised. "Maybe I can just have you knock me around a bit or something instead."

"I don't want to do that either! If I wouldn't like it, why would I want to inflict that on you instead?"

"Believe me, if I can't absorb or parry your blows, I'm doing something wrong," Zidane reminded him, though he was touched that Kuja didn't want to risk the possibility of harming him. It made him feel even guiltier about the cheap shot he'd taken. "Or I guess we could just pick a tree or something to use as a training dummy."

"What, you have a vendetta against trees now?" Kuja snapped. As soon as the words were out he shook his head and took a breath to steady himself. He didn't want to get upset. The younger Genome was trying to fix things. He wasn't going to use force to make Kuja perform; he'd given his word on that. And so far he'd had a pretty good track record of keeping his promises. "No, that's fine. Whatever you think is best."

Surprisingly Zidane humored him. "How about a dead tree then? Or a rock? Rocks don't have feelings last I checked. Though… well, we'd probably break your staff if we went that route." He shrugged, struggling to keep his expression neutral. But it was kind of funny, seeing Kuja go from a planet destroyer – and he'd felled quite a number of trees on Terra before finally blowing it up – to an apparent tree hugger. Just another indication of how much he'd changed since his fall. "Dead tree it is then. I've seen a few of them scattered around."

Kuja didn't feel like training anymore, but he didn't say so. But Zidane must've gotten that vibe off of him anyhow, because instead of continuing the discussion, he switched subjects. "Hey, so what's for lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Yeah, you know… usually you'd be making sandwiches or something right about now."

"Oh." Kuja was frankly sick to death of sandwiches but it wasn't like he could complain when he was the one that kept making them. "Sorry, I didn't think about it," he mumbled as he tried to reroute his thoughts towards a culinary direction. Didn't Zidane pick up a ham the day before? Or was it more cheese?

"Hmm, that's okay. Want me to make lunch then instead?"

Kuja stared at him. Was Zidane offering because he wanted to make up for earlier? Was it really okay to let him do that, or was he being selfish in wanting more reassurance that Zidane's apology had been genuine. "If you want…" he finally replied, still unsure as to what the right answer was.

"Okay then." And Zidane stooped to pick up Kuja's staff, handed it to him, then offered Kuja his hand so they could walk back together. The taller man accepted. "But honestly, you make better sandwiches," Zidane added with a smile.

It didn't matter that he didn't agree. Kuja couldn't stop himself from coloring slightly at the compliment. "Flattery won't get you fed any faster."

"I know. But I just wanted to tell you that. Everyone's good at something, right?"

"And bad at something else?" Kuja asked, looking at the staff in his hand.

"Pssh. I guarantee you'll be a pro in no time with that thing. Trust me," the thief said confidently.

Kuja didn't argue back, though it still felt weird to be carrying a weapon. It didn't seem to want to settle into his hand. But it was easier to go along with Zidane's idea than to try and find a reason to disagree.

* * *

_Well, I take it back. So much for it being easy to teach an old dog new tricks… _

Zidane sighed heavily. After a week or so of training, he was beginning to wonder if Kuja was a hopeless case after all. Even a six-year-old Eiko had been more adept at fighting, and she had been trying to hit things with a flute. A _flute. _At least she could kill oglops with it. Kuja probably couldn't even manage that.

"Sometimes I think you're not even trying," Zidane said, frustrated, watching as Kuja flailed at the training dummy he'd set up, which was simply a half rotten tree trunk girded by a moth eaten rug and some curtains from the house. "I'd say you hit like a girl, but I've seen how much damage Freya and Beatrix can do, and I'm not dumb enough to insult them like that."

Kuja stopped and took a few moments to catch his breath. A couple strands of hair had escaped the high ponytail he'd tied his hair in and stuck to his flushed, sweaty skin, and Zidane immediately felt bad for thinking Kuja hadn't been giving it his all. "I can't help it. I'm not any good at it, and my hands hurt!"

Zidane just nodded after a second's thought. Kuja was right; it seemed melee weapons didn't agree with him at all. His palms had blistered badly by the second day of training. He now wore gloves to protect his hands; other than his shoes, they'd been the only things usable from his old, flashy outfit. So at least he wasn't earning new blisters, but the existing ones had to be a bit painful still.

Though… what Kuja said was only a partial truth. Not that he was going to tell Zidane that. The silver-haired Genome wanted to learn how to fight because he knew he needed to, but at the same time, he worried that if he got too good at it that Zidane would leave even sooner, thinking that Kuja would be fine and able to take care of himself. He wondered if he was somehow holding himself back or even sabotaging himself with thoughts like that?

Not that Kuja wanted to rely on Zidane or anything. He hadn't ever relied on anyone. He could take care of himself just fine, as he'd done all his life. He didn't _need_ the younger man at all…

Except, it was nice having someone to talk to. It was nice having someone who would ask him how he felt and meant it, someone who'd kiss him and hug him and lay beside to him night after night without demanding anything in return.

It was almost like a fairytale. And that's all it was – a fantasy, an illusion. Kuja knew it wouldn't last much longer no matter how much he tried to extend it. As the days grew longer Zidane spoke more and more about Alexandria and Lindblum, about how much he missed Dagger and his Tantalus brothers, about how worried he was that something had happened to someone and he wasn't able to be there for them. Kuja didn't want Zidane to go, but at the same time, he couldn't ask him to stay. He owed him that much.

"Hey, are you listening?" Zidane's loud voice bullied its way through Kuja's brooding thoughts.

The former mage blinked and looked over to see Zidane approaching him, hand extended. "What?"

"I said, I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean… that is, I know you're trying, but you've gotten sloppier the last five minutes or so." He exhaled and tried again. "Are you really that tired?"

Kuja slowly nodded.

Zidane slapped his hands on Kuja's shoulders and rubbed them briefly, his fingers digging into the muscles for a quick yet effective massage. Kuja groaned, his head rolling a little, his arms going slack at his side. Zidane chuckled and patted him on the back, making a mental note to give Kuja a more thorough massage later since it looked like he could use it. "All right, go ahead and take a break then. And hand me your staff. I want to try giving it a whirl since I haven't had much practice with one. But make sure you watch what I'm doing, okay? The way I hold the staff, the way I extend my body into each strike, how I position my feet…"

A break sounded more than good. Kuja had been whacking at the tree for a good half-hour and all his muscles were protesting, though the mini rubdown had helped soothe the ache a tiny bit. It didn't help that he'd put in the same amount of work the day before. And the day before that. And so on and so forth.

He handed Zidane the staff and quietly thanked him, before retreating to a relatively shady spot nearby so he could watch Zidane go through his paces on the training dummy.

What Zidane lacked in magical ability he more than made up for physically. He was far more powerful than his relatively slight build would indicate, and flexible and agile as well. Kuja's best blows hadn't done more than scuff up the cloth padding tied around the tree; Zidane's opening blows were already hitting much harder and faster than that. Once he'd gotten warmed up, he really turned it on. The thief even added in all sorts of extra moves, ducking and dodging as if he were beset by multiple opponents, though nothing was done for the sake of being showy. His movements were deliberate and precise, elegant in their efficiency.

Kuja knew he was supposed to be taking notes on technique and positioning, but he found his mind wandering as the gently rising heat of day lulled him into a sort of daydream state. His eyes wandered over the clean lines of Zidane's body, taking in the way his muscles bunched and stretched as he moved. The silver-haired man was even fascinated by the way Zidane's golden tail whipped around as a counterbalance. Sometimes the sunlight would catch on it just so and make it look like it was glowing white for a split second, as if Zidane were on the verge of Trancing. And even though Kuja didn't like being reminded that that was the one thing he'd never managed on his own, he thought he wouldn't mind seeing Zidane Tranced again, just to admire the surge in his power.

As Zidane had no reason to Trance, he continued his practice session as he was. Kuja felt his eyelids gradually growing heavier. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning against the smoothest part of the large rock at his back and laced his hands over his stomach. His body was sore and he wanted very much to take a bath, but at least the spring warmth was pleasant, especially after the long and cold winter. Birds were chirping off in the distance, their songs punctuated by the rhythmic thwacks of Zidane's strikes.

He hadn't planned to nap, but regardless of intention, he ended up nodding off at some point. He wasn't sure how long he was out for, but when he awoke, Zidane was no longer trying to demolish the training dummy and instead stood before him, head cocked, his shadow falling over Kuja's mostly prone form like a blanket.

Kuja looked up, blinking. The blonde had taken his shirt off; he was sweaty and his chest heaved with each breath. Kuja couldn't help but continue to stare even as he told himself that Zidane wasn't his type at all: too short, babyfaced, simpleminded… Then again, those same traits had made him an unlikely hero as well. That, and the whole "Angel of Death raised by thieves" bit. But Zidane had performed admirably as the hero, hadn't he?

And it wasn't like Kuja really _had_ a type. He'd never thought about it. It hadn't mattered before. But he supposed if he had to pick, he'd go for a cute girl, not too young of course, with wide eyes and waves in her hair. Or maybe an older, elegant lady, poised and well spoken, with tasteful clothing that'd skim her curves. Or even a young man, not too muscular but not skinny either, with dark hair to contrast his own. Or a blonde would be okay too, since gold and silver would play nicely off one another… a blonde with blue eyes, an athletic build, and sunkissed skin.

Kuja facepalmed. _I just described Zidane, didn't I?_

"What's up?" Zidane asked as he flopped gracelessly onto the ground. He placed Kuja's staff on the ground between them. When Kuja didn't answer, Zidane just shrugged and pulled his hair tie loose from his ponytail before shaking out his sweat darkened locks. His hair was getting pretty long and scraggly, though it didn't seem to bother him one bit. "Have a good nap?" he added with a smirk.

Kuja found himself reflexively running his fingers through his own long hair, though part of him wanted to reach out and touch Zidane's instead. It probably wouldn't hurt for him to get a trim as well, though the additional length wasn't as noticeable on his hip length hair. "Can you pick up some shears next supply run?"

Zidane stared at the older man a moment, at the silver hair he was fingering. "Oh, heh. Yeah, I guess we could both use a trim. But I don't need scissors for that!" The thief quickly pulled out one of his daggers, bent forward at the waist, and began cheerfully hacking at his bangs, much to Kuja's horror.

"Don't do that! It's going to look like a mess!" Kuja yelped, expecting at any moment to hear a "Whoops!" and see a large chunk of hair – or an ear – go flying.

Zidane straightened back up slightly. All his hacking hadn't made much of a difference to his overall look. His bangs were just shorter. "Why? This is how I always cut it."

"But… it's uncivilized!"

Zidane just laughed. Being out in the sun with the dirt and bugs, getting in a good workout, and bantering with Kuja… it all put him in a very good mood.

"Besides, I didn't say it looked bad. The longer length suits you," Kuja muttered.

The younger Genome tried to imagine himself letting it all grow out, until he had a lion's mane of gold hair. "Really? But I'd end up looking like you, wouldn't I?" Zidane joked as he reached out to play with Kuja's ponytailed hair. Kuja immediately shifted away; he didn't want sweaty hands making contact with his hair, even though he was in need of a bath himself. Zidane grinned and shrugged it off. "Aww, I was just kidding. We don't look alike anyhow."

Zidane however did look like all the other Genomes. Sometimes Kuja wished he did as well. Not that he didn't appreciate what his appearance had done for him, but it wasn't always a good idea to stand out. He'd be recognized no matter where he went, unless he dyed his hair and tail Genome blonde and plucked out the feathers at the crown as well. "Is that a good or a bad thing?" he said, more to himself than anything.

"Well, I don't think Dagger would like it if we did."

Kuja made a face. He was tired of hearing her name over and over, as if he needed a reminder that Zidane was chomping at the bit to go "home." "And what about me? Where am I supposed to go? Or am I to live here as a hermit for the rest of my life, however short it might be?"

"Huh? Hey now, stop that! Look, you're doing a lot better now. You're not going to suddenly die."

"I might as well! It's better than staying here by myself!"

Zidane frowned. But despite the subject, he didn't lose his cool for once. "I didn't want to say anything earlier – because I can't promise anything, okay? – but I've been thinking about it, you know? I was going to talk to Mikoto and see if the Black Mages would let you live in their village. Or… and this is a long shot, mind you, but maybe if I gave her some time, Dagger might agree to pardon you. And then you could come to Alexandria and live with us. That wouldn't be so bad, right?"

A pardon. What kind of queen would pardon the criminal mastermind who'd wiped out half her city, who'd killed both her birth parents and her foster mother? "You must be crazy – why would she? There isn't a soul on this planet that would agree to that!"

"How can you be sure if you don't try?"

Kuja simply shook his head. Zidane was totally unrealistic. He was going to be sorely disappointed someday when reality slapped him upside the head. He'd simply been lucky so far, that was all. But some small part of Kuja wanted to believe in him… And he quickly squashed that down. He didn't do well with rejection or disappointment.

"I'll find you some place to go. Believe me," Zidane said firmly, not realizing how much Kuja was struggling with it already.

Kuja picked up his staff and jumped to his feet. His body felt stiff and a bit sluggish, but he tried his best to hide it. "I assume you're done," he said flatly as he pointed at the training dummy. It was still intact, though much more beaten up than before.

"What? Oh, that. Yeah, I guess…"

He could do it. He had to. Kuja knew he wouldn't be able to rely on Zidane forever, and now it was sounding like he didn't have much time to pick up the skills he'd need to survive. "I guess I better get in some more practice then," he said, and before Zidane could get in another word, he stalked off, ignoring the pain in his hands as they curled tight around the staff.

* * *

Author's Notes:

- I couldn't resist making a bit of a fourth wall breach with Zidane's "monsters aren't going to stand there and wait their turn to attack you" comment. Well, he's right… if you have battle mode set to Active : )

- While it's non-canonical (magic in FF9, as in most fantasy games, isn't really explained), I don't think it's too farfetched to imagine the following scenario, that the Black Mages draw their magical power from the Mist that animates them and therefore, would perhaps live longer if they refrained from using magic. So by extension, perhaps something similar could be applied to Kuja as well (as he created the Black Mages based off his knowledge of how Genomes were created).

- The game also never explains how Tantalus came to be, but I think the explanation given on the Final Fantasy Wiki sounds reasonable, that Baku assembled the group by picking up orphaned boys and street urchins. So while they're a group of actors / thieves, they're also something of a family.

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews are appreciated!


	6. Ch 5: The Great Pretender

Disclaimer:"The Show Must Go On" and "The Great Pretender" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 5: The Great Pretender**

* * *

Zidane had to admit, he'd been wrong. Not that Kuja had magically transformed into a great warrior or anything like that, but after a couple months of practice he'd finally begun showing enough progress that Zidane felt comfortable with the prospect of going into actual combat. And the best way to do that would be to go on a supply run, which would also help Kuja get acclimated to the route and routine which served as a lifeline for anyone living out in the wilderness.

Kuja was of course a little apprehensive about his first trip away from the safety of the house, and made known his protests even as he followed the younger Genome down the dirt path towards the Lucid Plains. "But… what if they realize who I am?" he asked, tugging down the hood of his cloak a little more. A disguise was necessary, but not terribly comfortable; the moderate warmth of spring had morphed into hotter summer. He'd taken the precaution of tying back his hair as well, both to hide it and to stay cool. That long silver hair and the matching tail were enough to make him stand out amongst other Genomes, with their standard blonde coloration; the feathers in his scalp were a dead giveaway as to his identity for anyone who'd ever even heard of him.

"They won't – they're pretty isolated, especially at the supply station. And see, I've been working on this already… you're gonna be masquerading as Dagger," Zidane cheerfully explained.

Kuja's brow wrinkled. "… And why is that?"

"'Cause, the Dwarves remember her passing through Conde Petie with me, but they don't remember what she looks like. So it's perfect right?"

"Oh sure, except for the fact that I'm neither human nor female," Kuja said distastefully, swishing his tail so that his cloak undulated behind him, as if a strong breeze had caught it and lifted it.

Zidane suddenly stopped. Kuja nearly collided into him and scowled when the blonde spun around to face him. "Gee, that's funny. You were pretty insistent about hiding the fact that you're a Genome when we first met. And you definitely didn't look manly either, if you catch my drift."

"I've already explained the latter," the former mage sniffed.

"Okay… So then why'd you hide your tail? I don't think you've ever explained that one."

Kuja's cloak fluttered back down to drape around his legs. "Well… it gets in my way, I guess. You should know, they're pretty sensitive."

While there was truth to that, Zidane knew their tails were less a hindrance and far more of an asset. And even in his rough and tumble life as a thief, he'd really only ever gotten it pinched once or twice by a fast closing door. "That can't be the only thing…"

Kuja looked away for a moment, then began walking again, following the path as he had no real clue which way they were headed. Zidane trotted to catch up, then repeated his question.

"Why would I want to be reminded of what I am? You've seen how the other Genomes are: mindless, soulless. They're nothing more than dolls. I want to have nothing to do with them," he spat.

"But it's okay to hang out with me, right?"

"Do I really have a choice?" When Zidane's brow rose at that, Kuja sighed and backtracked a little. "I didn't… mean that. You aren't like the rest of them either. You're better than that… better than m…"

Whatever Kuja was trying to say was forgotten as a bunch of rocks and plant material suddenly got kicked across the curve of the pathway they were standing on. Zidane instantly whipped around, daggers already in hand as something big and green and gurgling came lumbering towards them.

"Ochu," Zidane grumbled, crouching down and holding his daggers up and behind his back in his usual fighting stance while sizing up the thorny plant monster. He ran into them on occasion but was still surprised at just how stealthy they could be, until they were right on top of you. But despite its size and rather nasty armaments, it wasn't terribly dangerous in combat, being dimwitted and far too bulky to turn around quickly. It was about as ideal a target for a novice fighter as he could hope for. "Hey Kuja, you can take this guy right?"

The blonde spared a moment to glance over at his companion. Kuja had been traveling with his staff in hand, so all he'd had to do was lift it and assume a battle stance. He had done just that, but he didn't look completely convinced that he was doing it right. His hands kept shifting along the staff as his eyes searched over the monster, gauging its movements and looking for some sort of opening amidst the sharp teeth and flailing tentacles.

"You're overthinking it. Just trust in your instincts, run in there, and whack it," Zidane said. "I'll back you up if you need it."

If Kuja were to "follow his instincts" he'd have magic sizzling in the middle of his palms, but that was no longer an option. All he could do now was to try and remember what he'd learned the last several weeks and hope that he was up to the task. And though he thought "just run in there" didn't sound too wise, he wasn't getting anywhere just standing there, staring at it. Zidane said he'd back him up… surely he didn't bring the older man out there just to let him fall to the first random monster they came across, right?

Kuja took a deep breath, checked his grip one last time, and then before he could change his mind, sprang forward, focusing in on the monster's left tentacle. He swung the staff overhead and brought it down sharply, just as he'd been taught. The wood collided with a satisfying, solid thwack, not dissimilar to all those strikes against the target dummy, and the monster gurgled angrily as the lower half of its tentacle went limp.

Kuja had to admit, he was a little surprised he'd managed to wound the creature, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that it'd be scared off so easily. As soon as the limb went down he immediately pivoted, swinging the staff out and behind him to defend against a possible counterattack from the monster's right side. But his positioning was off; he had the staff down a bit too low. He caught the flash of a spiky green tentacle coming in fast towards his head and cringed out of reflex, in anticipation of a hard blow…

Instead of the smack of impact against his skull, he heard the Ochu roar again. Forcing his eyes open he saw Zidane skidding to a stop a few yards away, daggers flashing in the sunlight. The majority of the monster's now severed right tentacle was twitching on the ground between them.

"Thanks…"

"Don't drop your guard; it's still a threat, even like this," Zidane warned.

Kuja noticed wisps of deep green smoke beginning to waft up from the depths of the toothy maw and nodded in agreement. If he dallied too long, the thing would probably spit noxious gas at them or something. And it still had its left tentacle; although damaged, it was still able to lash it about like a whip. Too bad for the Ochu then… if it had been smart enough to flee and find for a meal elsewhere, he would have probably let it go.

_Don't overthink it. Just go,_ he told himself as he gathered his strength for another pass.

Feeling a bit more confident in both his own abilities and further bolstered by Zidane's presence beside him, Kuja decided to try for a series of connected hits this time. He darted back in, ignoring the disgusting sap that was starting to drip down from the severed tentacle stump and struck the monster's body with a blow from the right, then the left, then spun and finished with another right before leaping away. He turned back just in time to see Zidane run in to deal the final blow, the Ochu flopping to the ground like a felled plant.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" the younger Genome asked, all smiles now that the threat was gone.

Kuja wiped drops of sap off his face and glared at the withering green husk. He should've been happy that he'd managed to survive his first real fight without a scratch, that he'd even gotten a few blows in, but now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, he wasn't satisfied with how he'd performed. Upon closer inspection it was obvious he hadn't contributed anything at all. He had landed a few bruising blows; Zidane on the other hand had severed a thick tentacle easily and scored the monster's body with deep, fatal wounds. Kuja shook his head. If he still had his magic, he would've easily dispatched the creature without needing assistance, without ever having to go near it. But now… all he'd managed to do was hold Zidane back by clumsily getting in his way. Wasn't that indisputable proof that Garland was right? Zidane was the superior Genome and Kuja the failed prototype, just as his creator had always claimed…

"You did pretty well, considering it's your first time and all. Though… maybe I should've trained you on daggers instead," the blonde mused.

Great, now Zidane was resorting to giving him the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head to try and make him feel better. "Maybe," Kuja mumbled, not really caring. How would adding a blade fix anything? No matter what weapon he was armed with, he'd have to get in close to hit his opponent, without magic shielding to protect him if he screwed up. And although it was true that Zidane had no shields either, he didn't need it – he made up for it with superior strength and agility.

The silver-haired man tried to imagine what it would be like going at it alone, armed with only a staff or a magic racket… It wasn't exactly a pretty picture. What would he do if he got injured? He no longer had access to white magic either.

"Well," Zidane continued, unaware of the darkening of Kuja's mood, "the most valuable piece of advice I can give you is this: if all else fails, run."

Kuja could only sigh. He had the feeling he was going to be resorting to that a lot in the future.

* * *

The remainder of the trip down to the supply outpost was uneventful. Zidane had already reduced the monster population in the area quite a bit during his many solo treks, so they were able to complete the journey unmolested. Kuja wasn't sure if he ought to be thankful for that or not… it was never a good idea to kill off all the monsters in an area; they naturally discouraged unwanted guests from intruding. That's why he'd left monsters roaming the halls of his Desert Palace. But more than that, Kuja wasn't sure if he wanted a reprieve. He wasn't the sort to be "itching for a fight" but at the same time, he wanted some sort of outlet for the tension that had been building up all day.

Upon reaching the plains, Kuja could see smoke rising from a firepit just beyond the river, accompanied by a few tents pitched in front of a lean-to built against a natural outcropping of rock. Reflexively Kuja tugged down his hood a little more, leaving only a small slice of pale skin visible before following Zidane past the tents and to the lean-to, which was occupied by a pair of Dwarves.

"Rally-Ho!" the two Dwarves called in greeting, hands held up so that their palms were facing their visitors.

"Rally-Ho," Zidane echoed, grinning. He nudged Kuja, staring at him expectantly.

"Uh… Rally-Ho?"

"Ah, I see ye brought yer wifey this time, did ya laddie?" the shorter of the two Dwarves immediately commented while looking Kuja up and down. Privately the Dwarf wondered if Kuja was an ugly woman since he couldn't see the face beneath the hood, but he didn't comment since it wasn't really his business if his customers liked ugly women.

"Wife?" Kuja echoed. Why would they assume he was Zidane's wife of all things? And even though he knew that that Zidane was trying to pass him off as Dagger, he was still a little put off by the fact that he was presumed to be a girl, even with no makeup on – not that they could see his face - and dressed in men's clothing – not that they could see his clothes either.

"Oh yeah… heh, I guess I forgot to mention it. The Dwarves sorta married me and Dagger way back when," Zidane quickly whispered to him.

"… WHAT," Kuja hissed back loudly before he could stop himself. It was probably a good thing that Dwarves were generally hard of hearing. Zidane was married? He'd never mentioned that before. Why would he…

"They wouldn't let us go on to the Iifa Tree unless we got married, okay? It's not like we're married married. Hell, even Vivi and Quina got married, and we don't even know _what_ Quina is."

Kuja's hand automatically landed on his face. He'd been doing that around Zidane quite a lot.

"Lass, yer lookin' a wee bit pale. Not a healthy one, are ya?" Short Dwarf said, staring at the white face that was revealed as Kuja accidentally knocked back his hood a little. Human females weren't at all the Dwarf's type but he thought Kuja didn't look half bad, with fine silver brows above eyes the color of stormy skies and porcelain skin, which made him wonder instead if Zidane was the jealous type who wanted to hide his wife from curious eyes.

"Perhaps she is with child?" the taller Dwarf suggested.

_"WHAT?!" _Kuja shrieked as Zidane began sniggering behind his back. "Do I look like I'm 'with child'?!" He flung one side of his cloak open so they could see how thin he was. It was bad enough having to masquerade as a woman; it was certainly another to be mistaken for a pregnant one.

The pair of Dwarves slowly looked him up and down, then turned to look at each other, then back to Kuja. "Well, how would we know? Ye humans and monkey-tails all need fattenin' up," Short Dwarf said.

Kuja wondered why he hadn't tried to kill off the Dwarves during his stint as the Angel of Death. Or was it that he'd figured they were so stupid that he couldn't even be bothered to do so?

"I'm sorry, I just…" Zidane managed to choke out between chuckles, "but he… er, she's definitely not pregnant."

"Ah? Well, that's unfortunate. Ye should try harder!" Tall Dwarf exclaimed.

"Oh yes, we'll try harder, right DARLING?" Kuja seethed, reaching around to pinch Zidane's ass, hard.

"OW! Yes! No! I mean… Uh… Wait, what?" And why was Kuja's hand on his rear anyhow? Zidane thwapped at the wayward hand with his tail, earning him a grumble and another pinch in return. Slightly irritated and yet somewhat amused at the same time, Zidane let loose a low growl himself, then readied his tail for another swat, only this time, he aimed for Kuja's butt instead.

The silver-haired man jumped in response, then slapped Zidane's rear as if it were a ripe pumpkin. "Stop that you idiot!"

"What, you started it!" the thief yelled back.

"Ah, must be nice ta be married," Short Dwarf sighed as the two Genomes began poking at each other in earnest. He felt a little envious. He wanted a fiery little wife to pick on too.

Tall Dwarf laughed and began rummaging through his supplies. "Aye! And I've got just the thing for tha' lovebirds…" After a minute of searching he triumphantly pulled out a small ceramic jug and began waving it in the air. "Aha! Here we go!" And he shoved it at Zidane, who managed to grab it while fending off Kuja with his free hand.

"What is it?" Zidane asked after finally managing to uncork it for an experimental sniff. There was some sort of oil inside the jug.

"It's an aphro-disi-macallit. See, ye put a little of this on yer…"

"We don't want it!" Zidane yelped, nearly dropping the container.

"But it'll help ye with making babies! See, I used a bit o' this magic potion and now I 'ave three, count 'em, three wee ones! And I'm giving it to ye for free, being that yer a good regular customer and all."

"Uh, thanks, but really, we don't…"

"Just take it laddie. Put it ta good use. Or else ye be stuck out here in Sanctuary fer years to come!"

* * *

Unable to convince the Dwarves to take it back, Zidane ended up pocketing the oil before focusing on the reason for their trip - supplies. He showed Kuja how to pick out items they'd need and how to efficiently pack it all up for the trip back. They paid for the goods, loaded them up in two bundles which they strapped onto their backs, then bade goodbye to the Dwarves before heading back up the trail towards home.

On the way back, Kuja got his "wish" - another Ochu, just as huge and toothy and foul as the previous one, stood in their path. This time he didn't wait for Zidane to goad him on; he made the first move, though this time he went low, trying to disable one of the leg tentacles, hoping to topple the behemoth over. It wouldn't have been a bad idea if he'd been a little quicker and more battle experienced, but Kuja didn't have the agility needed to evade the creature's counterattack. The arm tentacle that came flying down tore through the bundle he'd been carrying – in his haste he hadn't bothered shrugging it off first – scattering bread and fruit everywhere and knocking him to the ground.

Zidane was immediately at Kuja's side, examining him, then sighing in relief when he realized that the older Genome simply had the air knocked out of him for a moment. Ironically enough, Kuja's uncharacteristic show of impatience had saved him; the supply bundle had cushioned the blow.

"I'll get him," the blonde said before darting nimbly beneath the monster and neatly relieving the creature of two of its four legs in a single pass, essentially doing the exact thing Kuja had tried and failed at. It went crashing down, flailing helplessly. Zidane swiftly pivoted around and stabbed both his daggers through the fibrous husk of the body, then tore them out, killing the Ochu almost immediately.

Zidane sheathed his weapons, then went back to help Kuja to his feet. The former mage was now sitting up, but still looked a bit stunned. Zidane bent down and took his hand, but as soon as he made contact Kuja snarled and yanked his hand back. He suddenly looked pissed off instead.

"Okay, now what?" Zidane demanded.

"… Nothing."

"Kuja…"

The silver-haired man swallowed hard. He ought to be thanking Zidane for saving his ass yet again. But the self-depreciation he'd felt earlier had returned in full force, mingling with anger and confusion. He shut his eyes, struggling to deal with the flood of emotions. He was mad: at himself, for being so weak and worthless as to need help; at Zidane, for being presumptuous enough to help. And at the same time he felt a rising sense of panic at the thought of Zidane leaving, at the prospect of being left to fend for himself, when he couldn't fight, when he was probably the most wanted man on the planet.

He'd never considered begging for anything before, but he was closer than he'd ever been to doing so. But what was the point, other than throwing away what little pride he had left? It didn't matter that he didn't want Zidane to leave… that was inevitable. Why would he stay when he had a beautiful, powerful young queen and friends all waiting to give him a hero's well deserved welcome home? Kuja couldn't even begin to offer him anything like that.

Maybe it'd be best if Zidane just up and left right away. What was the point in sticking around for weeks or a month more, when in the end, it wouldn't change anything? It wasn't like Kuja would last for much longer anyhow. What difference would it make if he met his end on the claws of a monster instead?

Uncertainty tore through him. He wanted to push Zidane away and at the same time, grab onto him and not let go. He didn't know what to do anymore. He feared losing control over his life more than anything, but wasn't that what was happening? Had he ever had any control over it in the first place?

He suddenly felt hands close over his, pulling them away from his face. Kuja jerked back in surprise, then blinked up at Zidane through a veil of hair. His fingers were tangled in it. He hadn't realized he'd been pulling at it.

Zidane frowned as he crouched down. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, letting go of Kuja's hands to lightly brush back the silver strands. "Did you really get hurt that badly?"

Kuja merely stared back at him mutely.

Zidane sighed again. There was no point in demanding an answer; if Kuja wasn't going to talk, he wasn't going to talk. Besides, he looked genuinely upset, almost like a lost child, if that could be believed. So Zidane tried being a little gentler, a little more understanding, stroking Kuja's face and leaning in to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

Kuja pressed his cheek against the blonde's palms a little bit – he remembered many years ago feeling comforted by baby Zidane's hands patting his cheeks - then shook his head slowly. He couldn't say it; he couldn't ask him to stay. He already knew the answer. And he didn't want to hear Zidane telling him that.

"You did good today, you know, especially since this was your first time in real hand to hand combat and all," the thief said, making his best guess as to what was bothering the older man. He enveloped Kuja in a hug. "I mean that. I'm proud of you."

Kuja flinched. No one had ever told him that before, especially not Garland, who'd never seemed satisfied no matter how hard he'd tried. "How can you say that? I screwed up…"

"No one's perfect their first time out."

"I could've gotten us both killed!"

"Nah. I knew it'd be okay. And I know you won't make the same mistake again." Upon hearing Kuja sigh heavily, Zidane tapped him on the nose and added, "Stop moping. You're doing great, like I said! You'll be a pro at this in no time – I'm gonna make sure of it."

"… And then what?" Kuja asked bitterly.

Zidane cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Something akin to hurt anger flickered in the depths of Kuja's eyes, but he refused to say anything more and merely shook his head again.

The conversation really wasn't going anywhere, and even Zidane knew he ought to call it quits before he said something he'd regret. They'd been having a pretty good day, or so he'd thought, and then Kuja just had to go and start raining on the parade again. He was getting so tired of it: Kuja's constant moodiness, his pessimism, the bouts of silence… it was all very draining. Zidane did care for Kuja, and he was trying to do his best to help him adjust to this new life, but it seemed the former mage was determined to make the task as difficult as possible.

How did the saying go? If you saved someone's life, they were indebted to you for the rest of their lives… or was it, you were obligated to take care of them for the rest of your life? Zidane had thought it was the former but it was starting to look like the latter was true. And that wasn't something he'd bargained for when he'd gone charging into the wild heart of the Iifa Tree; he had only been thinking about saving Kuja's life at the time, or at least being by his side so that he wouldn't be alone when he died.

Zidane took a deep breath and stood up, offering Kuja his hand. No, the thief couldn't take care of the other man forever, but a little longer… that wasn't unreasonable. He could handle that, even though he was getting more and more anxious to get back to his friends and family, because Kuja was almost family too, or something like that.

"Come on, let's get back to the house. It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

For a moment it almost looked like Kuja was going to just sit there stubbornly, refusing to budge, but then he gave a tired sigh and accepted a hand up… and then wouldn't let go. He didn't explain himself and Zidane didn't ask; he simply did his best to help Kuja dust himself off one handed, then readjusted his grip so they could more easily walk side by side as they made their way back to the house.

* * *

Kuja remained quiet the remainder of the journey, though his mind was going a mile a minute. He wondered if they'd encounter another monster… He wasn't itching for a fight anymore, but still he found himself thinking about combat again.

He wondered what would happen if he deliberately let himself get beaten up during an encounter. Would it be worth it to take a few blows to keep Zidane around a few additional weeks? Kuja was sure it would work… he was used to identifying people who had flaws he could exploit, then manipulating them into doing what he wanted. The younger man's flaws were obvious: he was an annoyingly gullible simpleton who was also kindhearted and protective of others. So if Kuja got hurt, Zidane would be saddled with guilt, for not jumping in quicker, for not having trained the former mage sufficiently in the art of physical combat. He would stick around for a little longer, intent on protecting him.

But it didn't take long for Kuja to scrap that idea. It wasn't worth it, getting injured just to buy a little more time. He didn't want to be in pain and more scarred up than he already was. But beyond that, Zidane had said he was proud of him, that he'd done well in the two fights. And Kuja treasured that little sliver of approval. He didn't want to lose it, no matter what.

And although he was used to using his body, as much as anything else, to get what he wanted – and a few additional scars wouldn't make much of a difference anyhow – there were other, less risky, more physically pleasurable ways to go about it. The question was whether or not that'd work on Zidane…

By the time they got home, it was already noticeably late. Kuja immediately headed for the bath, saying he felt sore and filthy, and casually hinted to Zidane that he ought to join him, but the thief was oblivious to his overtures and instead went to unpack their purchases and get dinner started while Kuja went to bathe.

Kuja wasn't deterred. It wasn't outright rejection after all. He just figured that meant he'd have the luxury of making himself as presentable as possible. With a little bit of water he scrubbed off as much of the road dust as possible to start, then broke some herbs into the remaining water to perfume it, hoping that the scent would cling to his skin and hair as he sat in the tub. He slowly combed his fingers through his hair, approving of the herbal scent he'd concocted, and wished he'd thought about asking the Dwarves if they had any skin cream or cosmetics for sale, though he doubted they'd carry such things. Besides, it was probably too late to try and soften the appearance of the scars he now bore anyhow. And as for the cosmetics, he wasn't sure if that was something Zidane liked anyways, given that he didn't remember seeing Dagger – and great, even he thought of her as "Dagger" now – wearing much makeup. Then again she was naturally, flawlessly beautiful. Kuja bet there wasn't a single scar or blemish on her royal body. No wonder Zidane had instantly become smitten with her.

There was an impatient tap on the door, and then it swung open.

"Hey…"

Kuja looked up to see Zidane cocking his head at him. "Yes?"

"You didn't hear me knocking?"

"Sorry…"

The blonde shrugged. "Well, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You've been in here a while."

"Oh." He hadn't realized he'd spent so much time in the bath, thinking. The water was starting to get pretty cool, and he hadn't even noticed. But since Zidane was there, he figured he ought to take advantage of it…

Kuja stood up, making the move as graceful as possible, letting the water sheet off his slender frame. He was pleased to notice Zidane's eyes flickering briefly over his body. It was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for.

"Could you hand me the towel?" Kuja asked in a low purr, seizing the opportunity before him.

"Huh? Oh, um… sure… Here."

"Thank you." Kuja accepted the offered towel, then began drying himself off slowly, dabbing droplets of water off his arms, lightly scrubbing the fabric over his chest, leaning down to work over one leg at a time, like a girl putting on stockings. He wanted it to appear he was just casually drying off, though it wasn't as easy - his back was starting to hurt from the Ochu's earlier attack and his legs ached from all the walking. And he had to fight to not rush over the areas that he wasn't so confident about, instead artfully positioning the towel or a limb over the worst of the scars, to minimize them. But thankfully they didn't seem to deter Zidane that much - he could feel the blonde's gaze staying with him, following his every movement, so he fixed a pleasant expression on his face and kept up the act.

The younger Genome was indeed intrigued by what he was seeing. He'd already admitted to himself that he liked looking at Kuja. It wasn't just that he was beautiful and graceful like a peacock, he also had a charisma that was hard to resist. It got a little weird whenever his brain tried to point out that Kuja was male, but Zidane just made it a point to skip over anything below the belt, so to speak.

Better yet, Kuja was now in a good mood it seemed, unlike earlier. That made him a hundred times more attractive. That made Zidane want to hang around and wait for him, to talk to him.

Kuja finally finished up by turning around, spreading the towel across his back like a flag, then folding up the bottom half over the ends of his hair to sop up the dampness. He turned back around and sauntered towards Zidane, who was still standing there, transfixed. Kuja remembered Zidane touching his face earlier and decided to repay that in kind, reaching for Zidane's face, cupping his chin in his hand, stroking his thumb over the younger man's lips. Zidane didn't resist as Kuja followed that up with a kiss, so the former mage decided to take things a step forward and slip in a bit of tongue.

Zidane made a tiny squeak of protest, but after a moment of confusion, he willingly opened up and let Kuja explore his mouth. The blonde had never been kissed like that before – despite what Kuja had thought, Zidane hadn't been all that successful with the ladies; he really was just an incurable flirt - but it wasn't as weird as he thought it would be. It wasn't like Kuja was trying to make him swallow his tongue. It was just a kiss with an added bonus of being a little more wet, a little more slippery…

Speaking of a little wet, Kuja's bangs were starting to drip noticeably onto Zidane's face. It made the thief scrunch up his face and squirm, enough to disrupt the kiss.

Kuja pulled back a bit, uncertain as to what had happened, and then he smiled at what he saw. Zidane's lips were moist and his cheeks were lightly flushed. His eyes were wide, the bright blue irises slightly clouded over. He really was rather attractive - young enough to be boyishly cute and a bit innocent, but old enough to be a man, without a doubt. It made the next move easy.

"What… what are you doing?" Zidane mumbled as Kuja moved on to nibbling on his neck. He wasn't really sure if he needed an answer though. Maybe it was better to not know and to simply close his eyes and concentrate on the varied sensations: Kuja's hot mouth versus his cold damp hair, the soft curves of his body and the firm, bunching muscle that lay just beneath the surface. He was stronger and more forceful than a girl would be, even though his skin was just as silky, his hair just as fragrant, touched with an herbal scent. Zidane found the contrasts oddly exciting.

Kuja's body was fully pressed against his now, pinning him against the doorjamb. Zidane reacted on instinct, slipping his tail between Kuja's legs and around his thighs, wrapping his arms around Kuja's narrow waist, then letting his hands drift down to the swell of flesh below, fondling it after only slight hesitation. Kuja had a full, curved ass, perfect for squeezing. In the back of his mind, Zidane remembered Dagger had a pretty nice looking rear as well, though he'd never gotten to touch it. Nor had he ever seen her naked. Hell, they'd never even kissed – he'd tried once and she'd walked off.

Zidane's eyes snapped open, and he quickly realized there was something firm beginning to press into his abdomen. He glanced down. He wasn't sure what to be more horrified by: the fact that Kuja's arousal was prodding him, or the fact that he'd forgotten all about Dagger for a few minutes. It wasn't until he'd had Kuja in his arms that he remembered her. And why were his hands and tail all over Kuja anyhow?

Zidane instantly let go of whatever he'd been fondling. "Woah! What the…"

"You're enjoying it too, in case you haven't noticed," Kuja quickly pointed out, reaching down to lightly pat the bulge in Zidane's pants.

The flush coloring Zidane's face deepened. This was the second time he'd gotten aroused because of Kuja. He didn't understand… Was it just because what Kuja was doing felt good? But he was a man, so it shouldn't have had that kind of effect on him, should it? And how would they… _Wait, what AM I doing? What about Dagger!?_ "Stop it, I… we can't…" But the other Genome wasn't stopping, so Zidane pulled back from the hand that was still rubbing him and pushed Kuja back lightly. "Listen to me!"

"What?"

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but… I can't do this."

Kuja looked down as well. He really wanted to rub up against Zidane some more, but he refrained from pushing his luck… at least for the moment. "If it bothers you that much, you don't have to look at it you know."

"That's not… it's not the only thing!"

"You could just flip me over and do it from behind…" Kuja continued, and Zidane swallowed hard at the image of the silver-haired man bent over, rear in the air.

"No way… I couldn't. I can't… I can't do that to Dagger."

Kuja stepped back, a low hiss escaping his lips. He didn't want to lose to her, not in this, not when she wasn't even on the same continent. "She's not even here now, is she?" he asked dangerously.

"She is, in my heart! I can't do this to her."

"Good thing I'm not asking for your heart then."

Zidane jerked. So this was just a physical thing then?

"Did she ever do anything like this for you?" Kuja asked, pressing for an answer, the tip of his tail slowly working it's way up Zidane's leg.

"Of course not! She's not like that. And stop that!" Zidane yelled, swatting at the silver tail with his own.

"Then let me be the one."

Zidane stared at him. Kuja's eyes were dead serious; he wasn't just jerking Zidane's chain. But the younger Genome wasn't ready to consider such a thing. He didn't know if he ever would be. He still didn't understand why he reacted to Kuja, and what that meant, if anything. Maybe being out in the middle of nowhere so long was driving them both a little crazy. Maybe he ought to start planning his trip home, before things got out of hand.

Zidane let out a long, slow sigh, then took a hold of the towel around Kuja's shoulders and pulled it down to wrap it around the other man's torso. "Look… I just came in to tell you dinner's ready. Get dressed and we can go eat, okay?"

It was a rejection of sorts, but on the other hand, Zidane hadn't completely turned him down either. And there'd been no mistaking the thief's reaction, no matter how much Zidane tried to deny it. So Kuja slowly nodded and rewrapped the towel more securely around his body. Zidane smiled at him, looking relieved. Kuja smiled back. He was willing to concede, for now. At least the seed had been firmly planted, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do than to cultivate it.

* * *

Author's Notes:

- Sorry about the massive delay in getting this chapter done. I've been busy with various things, including my new rats, aptly named Kuja, Zidane and Alexander : )

- I know the Dwarves should sound more "Scottish," but as I wanted the dialogue to be easy to understand, I went sorta halfway so that they would keep a bit of their canon accent while remaining intelligible.

- Debating whether or not next chapter should be a lime or a full-blown lemon (yes, really, it's that time!) Right now I'm leaning towards lemon (frankly I don't know how to lime, it seems) but of course the scandalous bits would then have to be omitted from the ffnet version, with the full version available on my site. Feel free to leave feedback if you have an opinion on the matter!

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews are appreciated!


	7. Ch 6: Don't Stop Me Now

Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" and "Don't Stop Me Now" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

**NOTE: There is a lemon scene at the end of this chapter that has been omitted due to rating. Visit my site (link in profile) for the uncut verison of this chapter.**

* * *

**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 6: Don't Stop Me Now**

* * *

Despite his moniker of "Angel of Death," Kuja had never particularly relished killing. He'd done it because it was what was expected of him, and he was good at it. But as he stood over the body of his fallen foe, a foul smelling Gnoll, he felt a weird mix of pride and apprehension. Pride, because Zidane was clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him on the improvement in his fighting ability that had allowed him, for the first time, to take down an enemy in melee combat, by himself. And apprehension, because now that he'd proven himself in combat, Zidane was that much closer to leaving.

As if reading his counterpart's mind, Zidane cheerfully said, "Now I don't have to worry about your safety when I'm not around!"

Kuja forced a smile onto his face, not wanting to ruin the mood. But his heart was pounding from more than the adrenaline of battle. It was clear the thief wanted to leave as soon as possible and now that the last barrier to his leaving had been disposed of, Kuja was betting he'd be gone by the end of the week.

After Zidane finished pushing the Gnoll's body over the steep drop off a few yards beyond the path – it'd be pretty gross to have to step over a rotting carcass in the days to come – he motioned to Kuja to continue on up the mountain path. The silver-haired man picked up his pack of supplies and hefted it onto his shoulders, watched as Zidane did the same, and began walking again, leading the way back to the house.

"You're used to this routine now, huh?" Zidane asked as Kuja easily picked his way past the loose rocks around the next bend.

The former mage frowned slightly, wondering if "Does Kuja know the way to the supply depot?" was just another thing for Zidane to check off on his list. "I suppose…"

"Hey now, what's up?"

_You're leaving soon, aren't you? _Kuja thought, though he couldn't make himself say it. He tried to think of something that would sound more acceptable in their current situation. "Of course I know the route; we've traveled it often enough."

"Yeah, you're right. It's hard to believe… we've been here almost a year."

Kuja thought about it. It didn't sound right; it seemed like it had only been a few weeks since he'd awoken to find Zidane tending to his injuries, but logically he knew that was impossible. He lifted his chin a little. The air around them was hot and dry thanks to the late summer sun, but he could detect just the faintest hint of a cool breeze drifting by. "Hmm, it seems you are correct."

"I know I'm correct. I've been marking off the days on the post outside the front door," the thief revealed.

Kuja had wondered why there were scratches and notches and nails seemingly randomly driven into the wood. "Ah…"

"I wonder how everyone's doing…" Zidane mused aloud. "I sure miss them. I can hardly wait to go home…"

_Home._ The older Genome used to think that that simply meant the city of one's residence, or the building in which one would sleep, but now he understood… Zidane wasn't looking to return to a place, but to the people he'd left behind.

Kuja supposed in some abstract way he'd always understood. He'd always been a voracious reader as well as a good observer, using everything around him to supplement the knowledge base Garland had programmed into him. But it was one thing to memorize the definition of a word and another to experience it and glean knowledge that way. He felt something tighten in his throat and he shook his head hard, as if that would clear it. It made no sense to wonder what it was like to have a "home"… how could he want something that would never exist, moreso now that Terra had been destroyed, and by his own hands? But maybe that was a desire built in to all living things, regardless of the hows and whys behind their creation.

He sighed, then caught Zidane looking at him oddly, and cocked his head a little in response. "What?" he croaked.

"I said… oh, never mind. It didn't come out right anyhow," Zidane muttered. He chewed on his lower lip a little, then added, "…I'm not running away, you know. I'll come back for you, once I find some place where you'll be safe. I promise."

Now Kuja wondered what he'd missed while he'd been distracted by his own thoughts. It was inconvenient that Zidane, who was usually stupid as a bag of rocks, could be surprisingly astute as well. Kuja floundered for a way to push aside what Zidane had said, then gave up and muttered, "I don't believe in promises. They're just words. There's nothing binding about them, regardless of what you may think."

"Then what do you believe in?" When Kuja didn't answer, Zidane got a little louder. "I meant what I said. You can't really think I was just planning to leave you here and that's that?"

Kuja suddenly threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, and I was just starting to think you were capable of some modicum of intelligence. But you really are just a hopeless idiot, aren't you?"

"If anyone's an idiot, it's you! What does it take to get through to you?"

Kuja's eyes narrowed slightly at the insult. Then he smirked. His hand shot out to grab Zidane's tie and he pulled until the blonde was flush against his body, then kissed him as forcefully as he could.

Zidane was so surprised that he just stood there slack jawed, which only made it that much easier for Kuja to slide his tongue in between the younger man's lips. Zidane made a muffled sound but didn't resist; in fact, by the time he regained his wits, his tongue had somehow found its way into Kuja's mouth as well, and Kuja's hands had migrated down to his hips.

With some effort, Zidane finally managed to push Kuja off to hold him at arm's length. He wiped off his lips with the back of his hand. "Hey! What's with that? One second you hate me and the next you wanna make out with me?!"

One of Kuja's fine brows went up. "I never said I hated you."

"Right, because otherwise you wouldn't keep kissing me..."

"Zidane… we already had this discussion. Kissing has nothing to do with liking or disliking someone. Though it's easier if you don't dislike them, I suppose. And at least it's honest in that regard. After all, if you didn't enjoy it at least a little bit, I'm sure you wouldn't allow it. And… you wouldn't react to it."

Zidane growled and stomped off on slightly stiff legs, trailed by the sound of Kuja's mocking laughter.

It was a good thing Kuja could take care of himself now. Zidane needed to get out of the situation he was in, before… before… _Dang, I don't even know anymore!_ The whole thing was so confusing; it gave him a headache. He didn't know why he felt any sort of attraction towards Kuja when they were both men. It just wasn't normal. It wasn't right. And the former mage wasn't helping matters either, with all the touching and the kissing. It had been going on for months, and yet Zidane had no clue what it was that Kuja was expecting. Every time the blonde had asked, Kuja had danced around the issue until Zidane had given up in frustration. So what was going on with him? Surely he didn't greet people by sticking his tongue into their mouths. So was he doing it simply to tease Zidane, just to see him red and flustered? Was he just really horny? Or was there something more to it, something that he wasn't willing to admit to?

Zidane abruptly stopped and whirled around. Kuja was still grinning at him, which really set the thief off. He was tired of the games. "I think it'd be for the best if I left next week or so," Zidane finally snapped, watching with some satisfaction as the smile vanished from Kuja's face.

"Sensible. I suppose travel would be more difficult once the weather gets bad," Kuja replied blandly, after a bit of a pause.

Zidane was a little surprised - Kuja was being agreeable, mostly. He'd been expecting something more along the lines of a tantrum. "Yeah, that's right..."

The former mage pursed his lips. The word "stay" was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it. He didn't believe in begging, not that it had never worked anyhow. And he known for weeks, months even, that Zidane was eager to go home. It was inevitable, so what was the point in delaying it?

… Then again, Kuja wasn't the type who'd go down without a fight, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him. He knew how to fight dirty, how to take advantage of any opening… he excelled at that. And that was what it'd take if there was any possibility of keeping Zidane around.

But just as he'd told the younger Genome earlier, he didn't believe in words. He believed in action. And Zidane was in no mood for that right now. But Kuja wasn't deterred. He'd already decided what he was going to do. He just had to be patient and wait until the right moment to carry out his plan.

* * *

Zidane regretted that he'd been so blunt about it, but by the end of the week, he was convinced that he'd made the right decision. He couldn't stay there forever, away from everything he knew and loved, nor did he think he could fight off Kuja's advances indefinitely. And what it would mean if he gave in, Zidane didn't even want to consider. So it was better this way, even if it wasn't easy to walk away. He'd gotten used to life here, for better or for worse.

He set a goal date for one week out. That'd give him time to get extra supplies for the both of them, and to plan out his route. And maybe that would buy him enough time to try and locate Choco's tracks too; if he could find the friendly chocobo, he could save a lot of time and energy by riding instead of walking.

He figured he'd head to the Black Mage Village first. It was close by, and he wanted to see how his fellow Genomes were adjusting to life on Gaia. Plus there was a decent chance that he'd be able to convince them to take Kuja in. That would be the best possible scenario – he was certain Kuja would do pretty well amongst his own people. But he did have to consider the possibility that the Black Mages would refuse, and it was their village after all… he'd have to respect their decision on the matter.

After that, he'd need to find a way across the sea. Once he reached the Mist Continent, he figured he'd head to Lindblum, to Tantalus. As much as he wanted to be with Dagger again, he owed it to his brothers and Baku to let them know he was alive… and perhaps they could help him plan out a suitably dramatic proposal. And maybe Baku could be cajoled into taking Kuja into the gang if needed, so that was another reason to pay him a visit as well. If that didn't work out, Zidane figured he'd check in on what was going on in Treno, since Kuja had lived there before and it had been one of the few places that had remained unscathed during his and Brahne's campaign. And if that didn't seem viable, as a last resort he'd ask – beg even, if it came down to it - Dagger to let Kuja come and live with them.

Zidane was pretty pleased with himself. He wasn't one for planning things out so he thought he'd accomplished quite a feat by coming up with so many backup options in case one or the other fell through.

End goal now in sight, the days seemed to speed by. There was a lot to do and not much time to do it in. They went down to the Dwarven outpost several times to stock up and for Zidane to say goodbye – the Dwarves had literally been their sole lifeline and he wanted to thank them, and to ask them to take care of Kuja in his absence. Kuja offered to help with whatever else was needed to make the trip easier; Zidane had him patch up a tear in his cloak and asked him to help search for Choco as well, which proved to be a good decision as Kuja spotted the telltale tracks before Zidane did. Much to Zidane's relief Choco remembered the sound of his whistle and came running. Even though he was just a bird it was great to reunite with an old friend, and even Kuja seemed to enjoy meeting the creature, though it got a little bit awkward when they realized that Choco had somehow become smitten with Kuja's feathers. The poor chocobo actually looked depressed when they let him go again, but they promised they'd be back later and he perked up before running off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him.

The former mage was being surprisingly nice and tolerant about everything Zidane asked of him actually. It made the younger man feel that much more guilty about leaving, though he stuck to his decision after thinking it through yet again. It was weird… he'd never had a problem making up his mind on things before, but Kuja had a way of throwing him for a loop, making everything topsy turvy.

Finally the last day arrived. Zidane slept in a bit before heading back out to where they'd last seen Choco and summoned the gold chocobo back to his side. The oversized bird was happy to see him again, kweh-ing and rubbing him affectionately with his beak while searching for his promised reward of gyshal greens. Once Zidane got back to the house, Kuja greeted him with a surprise: a late lunch of stewed rabbit and root vegetables. It was amazingly good, enough that Zidane proclaimed it one of the best things he'd ever eaten. Whether it was the company he was keeping or his excitement at the thought of going home that made it taste that much better, Zidane wasn't sure, but either way, it was one of the most memorable meals he'd had in a long time.

After lunch Zidane did his final packing, triple checking to make sure he had everything he could possibly need, and divided up his remaining gil, giving Kuja the lion's share to make sure he'd be able to buy whatever supplies he'd need to survive. The blonde didn't anticipate being gone for more than a month or two, but it was better to be safe than sorry in this case. As nice as the Dwarves were, they obviously weren't going to give away their goods for free.

They had some more stew for supper, then Kuja suggested they sit outside to enjoy the rest of the evening. It was still summer after all, and while the midday temperatures could climb rather high, the nights were cool. It was really a beautiful, clear night; Zidane had never really noticed it before, but without city lights to obscure them, the stars in the sky were as dazzling as diamonds. He went to point it out to Kuja, but as soon as he turned to him he'd forgotten what he wanted to talk about.

Zidane had already admitted a hundred times over that Kuja was strikingly attractive, moreso than most women. But he'd never quite seen him like this before. The faint moonlight made Kuja's pale skin and hair glow luminously against the soft darkness of the night. It set off the elegant lines of his cheekbones and nose and darkened his eyes into pools of ink in contrast. _Night jasmine,_ Zidane's brain blurted out. Pristinely white and fragrant with summer's warmth. Zidane frowned; since when did he think of stuff like that? It didn't make any sense. Then again, not much ever did when it came to Kuja. Zidane had the maddening urge to kiss him, but that was probably a bad idea, given that he'd be gone in a matter of hours to return to Dagger's side.

"Is there something on my face?" Kuja asked in a low voice, looking at Zidane as Zidane stared at him in turn.

"No… I was just thinking. Er, remembering something, I guess."

"Remembering what?"

Zidane sighed to buy himself a few moments while trying to recall what it was he'd originally wanted to say, before he'd caught sight of Kuja in the moonlight. Now that he was on the verge of leaving, he knew he didn't have much time left to get it all out. But that was easier said than done. He couldn't think of anything to say other than what he'd already said before: that they were friends, that everything would be okay, that he'd return as soon as he could. He didn't want to sound like a broken record, repeating those same things over and over. Still, he really was going to miss the other man. Even though Kuja was moody and difficult at times, he had his good points too. He was intelligent and witty, beautiful and brave. And there was a kindness in him that Zidane hadn't expected. But despite his strengths there was a vulnerability to him as well, which really set off Zidane's protective instincts, even though the former mage was definitely no damsel in distress.

"This past year," Zidane began slowly, "I enjoyed my time here with you. Even if we didn't always get along, I don't regret any of it. I'm glad I got to know you. I'm glad we're friends now."

"Friends…" Kuja murmured, looking down for a moment. Then he lifted his head, reached a hand up, and lightly touched Zidane's chin. Zidane stared back, blue eyes wide. "I enjoyed my time here with you as well," Kuja said, leaning in to capture the younger Genome's lips in a soft, probing kiss.

Zidane allowed it for a few moments, then pulled away with some reluctance. "We… I can't do this anymore. I'm going back to Dagger."

"Yes, you are. Tomorrow. But tonight, you're still here with me," Kuja said, pushing Zidane's hands away to kiss him again.

It was a cool summer's night, yet Zidane felt like he was burning up. Kuja's breath against his mouth was so warm, and the tongue that had slid back into his mouth was as hot as fire. There was no reason why it ought to feel good, but it did. Zidane moaned, only dimly aware that the sound had come from his own throat, before being shocked back to awareness by something hitting his back. He reflexively tried to push Kuja away again.

"Really, we aren't going to get anywhere if you keep shoving me," Kuja complained. Zidane blinked up at him. Somehow the taller man had pushed him down onto his back, and he hadn't even noticed the change in his verticality beyond the initial impact.

"What? Wait…" the thief began protesting weakly before his complaints were completely cut off by another feverish kiss that stole his breath. Some small part of his mind told him to fight against it, but the truth was, Zidane liked it. He didn't really want to stop. Kuja always made him feel so amazing, waking up every nerve in his body like he'd never experienced before. It was almost like the adrenaline rush of combat, without the danger.

Finally seeing Zidane starting to give in, Kuja's hands relaxed and released Zidane's shoulders, then began making their way down the planes of Zidane's chest. Kuja could feel the frantic beating of Zidane's heart just under his palm. He smirked; he'd give the blonde something to be excited about, if he could just peel back a few layers of clothing…

"Ah!" Zidane gasped as Kuja slipped one hand under his shirt.

"Never had someone touch you like this?" Kuja inquired, though he didn't let up. But he wasn't going to push the matter too hard either until he got his answer.

"No… when would I have?" Zidane groaned.

Kuja smiled. Well, then Zidane wouldn't have had anyone do anything like this either… He pulled the younger Genome's shirt up completely, then lowered his head down and began kissing.

Zidane reacted wonderfully, gasping and squirming beneath Kuja. His hands floated up to knot in long silver hair, holding Kuja's head in place.

After a minute more of nipping and licking and learning about what Zidane liked and disliked – he liked a lot of tongue, but was ticklish on his sides - Kuja finally lifted his head to murmur, "I'm not complaining, but there's no need for us to be out here when there's a warm bed inside."

Yes, he knew it was a risk to bring Zidane back to awareness of what they were doing, but for starters, a wooden porch wasn't exactly the most forgiving of surfaces to have sex on…

The blonde blinked at the question. His pupils were dilated, his face flushed. But instead of pressing his advantage, Kuja sat back to give Zidane some breathing room and to await his answer. He wasn't going to force him. If Zidane firmly said no, Kuja would back off. He wasn't going to let Zidane have the sort of experience he'd had his first time. Not that he'd been forced into it either, but he had been confused when it had happened. A man had offered him shelter for a night and he hadn't understood the implication of those words. Although he'd known what copulation entailed in a clinical sense, he hadn't realized it could happen between two men. It hadn't been the most pleasant learning experience, but he'd gotten over it once his eyes were opened to the advantage his body had given him. An advantage he was grateful for, at times like this…

"I want this. And I think you do too. Think of it as… my thank you, for everything you've done for me," Kuja said.

"I don't need that. Words are enough."

"No, they're not," Kuja insisted. "You know I don't believe that. So please… let me do this. Or else all I'll think about is…" And he stopped to swallow, surprised at the strange feelings welling up, "…is what could've been. If I'd only tried…"

Zidane wasn't sure what the silver-haired Genome was talking about anymore, but it didn't matter. For some reason, this was _that_ important to Kuja – and Zidane understood what it meant to not want to be in debt to someone. But more than that, he was feeling extremely guilty about leaving… If something like this would make Kuja feel a little better, then… maybe…. "I'm… I don't know…"

"Zidane…"

"I mean, I don't know what to do."

"Ah. I'll show you then." Kuja leaned back in to kiss him on the lips, no tongue this time, just a sweet, simple kiss. "Thank you, Zidane." He stood up and offered his hand to his younger counterpart.

For a moment Zidane just stared at the hand, and it seemed perhaps he'd changed his mind, but then he reached up and accepted it.

_(LEMON OMITTED – see notes below)_

* * *

Author's Notes:  
  
- Once again, the lemon scene was cut due to mature content, as per ffnet rules. It just gets impossible to sanitize them past a certain point, so I opt to omit them rather than delete half the text. SPECIFICALLY the earlier "hanky panky" parts did get toned down on here (from where Kuja puts his hands under Zidane's shirt) but from the part where Zidane gives in, everything past that got cut. The full chapter is available on my site (link in profile) for mature readers. Thanks for understanding.

- And on the aforementioned topic of lemon, I hope I was able to do it justice. I really didn't want to emphasize the sex but, well, I'm no good at limes either. This was a bit outside of my wheelhouse though. It certainly wasn't meant to be romantic by any means, though there are elements of that in there, but at the same time it's not hate!sex either. Just a lot of guilt tripping and denial and a complete lack of meeting of the minds.

- Re: finding a way across the sea. In the game, a gold chocobo would be a perfectly valid and logical option for crossing an ocean, but I just have a hard time picturing (without laughing) an ostrich-like bird flying across miles and miles of open water with a passenger clinging to it, so Zidane will have to find another way to get home. For the purposes of this fic, Choco's pretty much just an ordinary chocobo.

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews are appreciated!


	8. Ch 7: Too Much Love Will Kill You

Disclaimer: "The Show Must Go On" and "Too Much Love Will Kill You" are performed and recorded by Queen. Final Fantasy IX is the creation and property of Square Co., Ltd. This is a not-for-profit fanwork and I do not own any of these characters.

* * *

**The Show Must Go On**

**Ch. 7: Too Much Love Will Kill You**

* * *

Zidane wasn't as small as he used to be. He really was growing up fast. But he was still a child, fitting easily in Kuja's arms as the silver-haired man threaded through the forest, searching for some sign of humanoid habitation amongst the trees.

Once or twice Kuja looked down at the head of blonde hair nestled under his chin. Zidane was clinging to him tightly but he didn't seem afraid, never once asking where they were or what was going on. He was too trusting, but maybe that flaw would serve him well, given what Kuja was planning.

Garland had been preparing to start training Zidane. But Kuja thought the child was too small, too delicate both physically and mentally, to endure it. And if he were right then simply, Zidane would not survive.

Why that mattered so much, Kuja wasn't exactly sure. The boy was, in many ways, his competition, but he was also a companion, the only other Genome with a soul and a will of his own. And he had chosen from the start to attach himself to Kuja, as if the young mage were his parent. His attachment had become so strong in fact that Garland had simply decided to leave Zidane's care in Kuja's hands. Kuja had been eight at the time and had had no experience with either babies or parental care before. It was understandable then that he didn't handle the inconvenience well – Zidane had to be fed, bathed, cared for at all hours – to the point where Kuja had come close to killing him, but in the end they'd both somehow survived it. Kuja was grateful for that, actually… even if it had only been for a short while, it had been nice to have a warm body that snuggled up to him in bed, to have someone to talk to, who smiled at him when he spoke.

Kuja had never fully understood Garland's logic in creating a Genome infant in the first place, but it had not been his place to question it. Nor was it his place to argue over training methods or anything else. Although he had been given free will, he was simply expected to do as he was told – arguing against orders or even balking would only earn him punishment. But Kuja could not stand idly by and let Garland have his way, not this time. If he had any say in it, Zidane would never know what it meant to be an Angel of Death.

The forest floor was dappled with light and heavily shaded by the canopy of leaves overhead. Kuja frowned and readjusted his grip on the child in his arms. Maybe he'd been wandering about for too long, or had taxed himself with too much teleporting around streams and fallen logs, but something was off. He felt a little lightheaded, as if he weren't quite all there. Light and shadow seemed to blur, and he began losing sense of time and direction, but suddenly he stumbled upon a small clearing and there, he finally found what it was he'd been searching for.

There was a burly man pulling a cart loaded with firewood, with some boys of various ages by his side. They were a bit of a rough looking bunch, but the boys seemed adequately cared for, not that Kuja was any sort of expert on the subject. Wanting to make sure his assessment was correct, Kuja reached out with his powers and very lightly skimmed their thoughts. The man fancied himself an actor as well as a gentleman thief, though he was more a common pickpocket than anything else. The boys were orphans the man had taken in as apprentices / accomplices, but they did think favorably of him at least. It seemed that the man treated them like they were his sons.

Kuja put Zidane down. The boy looked up at him with wide eyes and clutched at the hem of his skirt, sensing that something was wrong. Kuja tried to put a calm, pleasant expression on his face as he crouched down to speak to him.

"See that man over there? I want you to go to him and tell him, 'I am lost, can you please help me?' Do you understand?" Kuja whispered, trying to keep his directions as easy as possible.

Zidane nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Kuja's face.

"Repeat what I just told you to say."

Zidane did as he was told, reciting the line word for word, his childish voice making it sound believable. Kuja was satisfied.

"Good. I will stay here and make sure everything goes to plan. And Zidane… if he asks you to go with him, do so. Understand?"

The kid nodded again.

"Good. Now go," the mage said. Zidane took a few steps forward, then balked and began turning back. Kuja tsked softly at him. "Get going." He reached out and gave the child a shove.

After a short pause, Zidane did as he was told, and the man reacted as Kuja had predicted – although he seemed surprised to see such a young child wandering about in the forest and even looked around a bit suspiciously, he knelt down almost immediately to speak to him. He even patted the child on the head as Zidane did his best to answer his questions, before picking him up and putting him on the cart. Kuja let go of the breath he'd been holding in, relieved, though he didn't move. He needed to see the man take Zidane away, before he'd be able to make himself leave.

It was all working out. It almost seemed too good to be true. But as the cart began rolling away Zidane suddenly began looking around, his face scrunching up, and Kuja knew what was about to happen. He began rising to his feet, intending to beat a hasty retreat if he had to, just as Zidane burst into tears and began shrilly crying out, "Kuja! Kuja!"

The man began looking around again, then after tersely instructing the oldest boy to keep an eye on the others, began marching in the direction Zidane was trying to escape towards.

Kuja spun on his heel and fled as swiftly as he could. He could hear a gruff voice chasing after him, telling him to stop, interspersed with Zidane's cries. Small branches tore at Kuja's shoulder length hair and his feet seemed to trip over every exposed root, but he didn't stop and instead ran even faster. He could still hear Zidane screaming his name, though his voice seemed to be growing smaller and more distant with every step.

Kuja put his head down and kept sprinting until he could no longer hear anything except his own ragged breaths and the pounding of his heart, until he'd completely lost himself in the forest, swallowed up by the shadows cast by the looming trees.

Had he done the right thing? Would that man really take care of Zidane? And would Zidane ever understand why he'd done it? He was so young still… maybe he'd just forget about everything: Terra, Garland… Kuja too. It would probably be for the best if that happened. At least now, he had a chance…

Kuja awoke, disoriented, to the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. He'd had that dream before – or was it an old memory? He almost wished he knew for certain, but maybe it was better not knowing. Maybe Garland had been telling the truth, that he'd thrown Zidane away on Gaia out of jealousy. After all, he'd dreamed that before as well. Or maybe neither one was the truth? He would never know for certain; he couldn't trust his own memory on what had happened back then because Garland had done something to scramble everything up when he'd been searching for some clue of Zidane's whereabouts… It had been bad enough that Kuja had more or less forgotten about Zidane, seeing him only as a whisper in easily forgotten dreams, until they'd met again, so many years later. Even now, there were still a few gaps he couldn't quite fill in…

And on that subject, where was Zidane anyhow? Suddenly nervous, Kuja called out to him, fearful that the thief had already snuck off, but then a familiar voice answered back and Kuja looked over to see a shaggy blonde head pop into view.

Zidane was sitting on the floor, already fully dressed, stuffing the very last of his things into his packs for his trip. Normally the older man liked taking his time waking up and getting up, but seeing that Zidane was on the verge of leaving, Kuja was startled into sitting up so quickly that his head spun for a moment.

Zidane glanced over, then turned back to his bags. "Morning. Hope I didn't wake you," he said, pretending to focus on his task. Truth was, he didn't have anything left to pack, but it was hard to even look in Kuja's direction at the moment, considering the sheets were sliding off to reveal bare shoulders and chest. All the proof of just how messed up things had become was right there in front of him. In the end, he hadn't gone back to the bedroom and hadn't been able to sleep a wink on the sofa either, tossing and turning with all guilt and anger rampaging through his head. It had been an unforgettable experience… and an unforgivable one as well. The only thing he'd decided for sure was that he'd never let something like that happen again – even though some small, insistent part of him almost _wanted_ it to - and that Dagger would never know.

"Is that so?" Kuja sighed once he'd gotten his bearings. It sure sounded like Zidane had been trying to sneak off without even saying goodbye…

"You looked like you needed the rest, that's all," Zidane replied. Then he tacked on, "It wasn't like I was going to leave without saying goodbye," as if he'd managed to read that much from Kuja's mind. The former mage frowned at the prospect.

Kuja took a moment to compose himself as best he could, pulling the wrinkled sheets around his naked body and combing his fingers through tangled hair. He wanted a bath badly, but couldn't risk running off to take one, lest Zidane disappeared. But he figured he probably looked like hell at the moment and certainly, felt like it too. He was still sore, though it had dwindled to a manageable dull twinge, just like he'd figured it would. Ignoring the pain, he forced himself out of bed and onto his feet. "Anything I can help with?" he asked, shuffling over a few steps. He didn't really mean it. But anything was better than sitting there in silence.

Zidane gave him another glance. He wished Kuja would put some clothes on at least. It was horribly distracting; he couldn't stop himself from remembering the feel of the body that lay beneath. "Thanks, but I'm good." Zidane gave the bag he'd been working on a pat, then stood up. "Actually… I think that's everything. Um… and… so you want to have breakfast, or something?"

Kuja shut his eyes a moment. It was painfully awkward, trying to pretend like everything was fine, like it was just another morning, when it wasn't. "I'm not really hungry…" Then he took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "Zidane… about last night…"

"Well I'm not hungry either so guess I better get going huh?" the younger man quickly blurted out in a huge rush.

"Um… I guess?"

They both stood there uncomfortably staring at the floor, then Zidane shifted forward a step. With departure imminent, it would be normal to want to go in for a hug, but that didn't seem right – it was too much physical contact, especially with Kuja's current lack of dress. Zidane ended up extending his hand for a handshake, and the result had to be one of the most awkward handshakes in the history of Gaia.

"I'll come get you as soon as I can. So take care of yourself, okay?" Zidane said as their hands separated.

Kuja nodded slowly, then pulled his hand back until it disappeared under the sheets. It was strange… he felt numb, to the point where he hadn't even registered the handshake. He'd confirmed that it had happened with his own eyes, but it was almost like he'd been a spectator, and not a participant.

There wasn't anything else to talk about, with the obvious subject now dropped. Zidane managed a small smile, picked up his bags and slung them over his shoulders, and Kuja followed him as far as the front door. He leaned against the door frame, watching silently as Zidane went and got Choco and loaded his supplies onto the bird's back, then jumped up himself.

_Say something!_ a small voice screamed in Kuja's mind, and he opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. And even if he did, it was probably too late for it anyhow.

Zidane looked back briefly once he was mounted. His eyes flickered across Kuja's face, and what he was seeing, Kuja didn't know, but whatever it was, it made Zidane add, "Well, I guess this is goodbye then," as Choco stomped his feet, eager to get moving.

"… Farewell, Zidane."

That was what Kuja had said at the Iifa Tree, when he'd been prepared to die alone. Zidane couldn't leave it at that. "Don't say it like that. I'll see you later, I promise."

Zidane waited for Kuja to reply with a nod before he finally turned and began heading off, Choco stirring up a bit of dust with each step.

There was no good reason to remain standing there in nothing more than a sheet, but Kuja felt as if he couldn't move, not until Zidane was completely out of sight, though it seemed the morning light was swallowing up both bird and rider far faster than Kuja would've liked.

From some distance away, Zidane looked back one more time before the house disappeared completely from view. It was weird; he'd lived there for nearly a year and had never thought of it as "home," but at the same time, he was going to miss it a little, weather worn roof and lumpy sofa and all. But most of all, he was going to miss Kuja, in spite of everything that had happened. Zidane could just barely make out the figure still standing in the doorway, a silent, white shape, almost like a ghost. Given that Kuja's devastated departing expression was already beginning to haunt Zidane, that seemed an appropriate comparison, but Zidane steeled himself and kept going. He'd be back soon. He'd promised to return, after all.

* * *

When Zidane had been living with Kuja, all he could think about was Dagger, Tantalus, going home. And now that he was on his way back to the life he'd left behind, all he could think about… was Kuja.

He found himself stopping Choco from time to time as they made their way south. It was ridiculous… they'd only been apart for a few hours; the urge to turn around and return to Kuja's side was that strong. But Zidane talked himself out of it each time. He figured it was guilt – for leaving, for having had sex with him – that was thrusting Kuja to the forefront of his thoughts. So he told himself to push past that. He had other obligations now, not just Kuja. He had to let his friends know that he was okay, that he'd survived the Iifa Tree. And he wanted to see Dagger badly, though he didn't know how he was going to face her after what had transpired the night before.

Scattered thoughts notwithstanding, the trip to the Black Mage Village went smoothly, and by mid-afternoon Zidane had cleared the Dead Forest. Upon arriving at the village, he immediately noticed that it had gotten quite a bit larger since he'd last seen it… the influx of a few hundred Genomes certainly had affected the town's growth.

As Zidane made his way down the village's main road, gathering a number of curious glances along the way, he also began noticing the telltale signs of individuality emerging amongst his formerly soulless brethren. Some of them had adopted the Black Mage wardrobe: long dark coats, ballooned trousers, the ubiquitous pointed hats. Others had taken advantage of trade with the Dwarves and were dressed in a hodgepodge of colorful, sturdy woven fabrics. Their hairstyles were varied now as well… Zidane spied ponytails and braids on some, buzzcuts on others, and he thought he even saw a mohawk in the distance.

"Wow, I bet Garland would've flipped if he'd walked into Bran Bal and seen this," Zidane joked to himself. "It'd be like a rebellion or something."

"In a way, that is what it is," came a female voice from behind him. Zidane whipped around to see a familiar, pink clad Genome walking up to him with a short Black Mage in tow. A huge grin spread across Zidane's face as he jumped off Choco's back to greet them.

"Mikoto! And VIVI!" he yelled, immediately running over to hug his friend. It was such a relief to see him… As much as Zidane hadn't wanted to think about it, it had been a real possibility that Vivi could've "stopped" some time during his absence. But the little guy was really there, and he hadn't changed at all.

"Zidane, I can't believe you're here! I mean, Mikoto said you were all right, but…" Vivi faltered a little, trying to contain his emotions. But he couldn't stop the tears of relief that started welling up. "It's been so long!"

Zidane smiled, then hugged Vivi a little tighter. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to be gone so long!"

"I know. We were just so worried! Dagger, er, Queen Garnet most of all…"

Zidane released Vivi and nodded. He knew that. But it felt so good seeing Vivi and Mikoto that a lot of his anxiety was ebbing away. And now some of the other Black Mages and Genomes were congregating around them as well. While Zidane would be lying if he said he could remember meeting them all, he did recognize a few of them. He gave the group a smile and a wave, and received nods and smiles in return.

"So how are you, Zidane?" Mikoto asked.

Zidane turned to her. She'd grown up a bit more in the past year and now looked like a teenager. He couldn't resist hugging her too, then picked her up as well and spun her around. Vivi laughed. Mikoto didn't look nearly as entertained. "I'm good! How's life treating you, 'little sister'?"

"It's fine, when it's not spinning around."

Zidane grinned broadly and put her down. She'd grown up, but her personality hadn't changed one bit.

"Where's Kuja?" she asked as soon as her feet were solidly back on the ground.

_Boy, she's not cutting me any slack!_ Zidane thought. He knew she'd ask about him sooner or later. But Vivi was standing right there and had suddenly tensed up, and the rest of the Black Mages were starting to whisper to one another. Zidane hadn't been ready to deal with a discussion about Kuja yet and could only think of alleviating their concerns as quickly as possible. "Don't worry, he can't hurt you anymore. I promise," he assured the lot.

"Is he… dead?" Vivi asked.

"He's…" And Zidane paused, trying to think of what he could say to make things right. Then Vivi suddenly hugged him again.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to. I know… he mattered to you."

"Eh?" Zidane blinked, realizing quickly that Vivi had misunderstood his pause for something else. "No… well…" _Gods, how do I explain it to him?_

"Zidane, why don't you come to my house for some tea, just the two of us?" Mikoto suddenly offered, and when Zidane looked over at her, she lifted an eyebrow slightly and he realized… she _knew_. So he accepted her invitation, handing Choco off to some villagers who were eager to introduce him to their own Bobby Corwen, and followed her back to her hut, wondering the whole while what it was that she wanted to say to him.

* * *

"So… how is Kuja?" Mikoto queried as soon as she'd shut the front door. She pointed to the kitchen table and Zidane sat down as the young woman began rummaging around the kitchen.

"Well, he's okay, I guess… How'd you know he was alive?" Zidane asked while he glanced around at the tidy abode. The Genomes might've been displaying individuality in their clothing, but for the sake of ease of construction, they all lived in little round huts identical to the ones the Black Mages lived in. And like the Black Mages, they were probably living two or three to a house as well. He wondered what Mikoto's housemates were like…

"I can track either one of you no matter where you are. That was one of the reasons for my creation."

"Was that so that Garland could find me when the time came?"

"Yes." She walked away from the stove and sat down across from Zidane. "So why have you come here now, alone?"

Zidane struggled to find an answer. Mikoto was so direct, so straightforward, unlike Kuja. Zidane had gotten so used to dealing with Kuja's evasiveness that it was a little hard to switch gears and take Mikoto's question at face value. "Well, I wanted to get back to my friends and stuff on the Mist Continent. And if possible, I thought that maybe Kuja could come live here. It'd be good for him if he could be with his own people, I think."

"The Invincible is here, if you require transport. As for the other matter…" Mikoto looked away briefly, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I have no objection. I believe the other Genomes would have no objection either. But the Black Mages… You'd need to talk to Mr. 288, at the very least. And to Vivi as well."

Zidane had kind of anticipated that, but at the same time, he had been hoping to skip past that part. "I see… But, you're right. Though I admit I'm a little surprised that you don't think the other Genomes would have a problem with it, considering what happened to Terra and all."

Mikoto pursed her lips a little. "Even though Kuja destroyed our world, we do not think of him as an enemy. We know that Kuja was not a good person. What he did was wrong. But he gave us one thing: hope. We were all created for the wrong reason, but he alone defied our fate. We have not forgotten that."

Zidane scratched his head. Mikoto made Kuja sound almost heroic or something. "Will you come with me to talk to Mr. 288 then?"

"If you'd like. However, I can not make a case to the Black Mages for Kuja coming here. The cause is yours, not mine."

It sounded cold, but she was only being truthful. And, Zidane suddenly remembered, she'd never met Kuja. She didn't know him beyond his name and the one good thing he'd inadvertently done. She couldn't say that he'd changed, that he was a better person now. Only Zidane knew that.

"Yeah… I guess you're right. It is up to me… I'm just glad Mr. 288 is still around; I know he'll at least hear me out." Then Zidane paused, realizing that he hadn't really counted on there being many Black Mages around to protest Kuja's possible arrival. But he had spotted plenty of them in the village. How had so many of them survived when Kuja had designed them to be disposable, when they'd been dropping like flies before that?

"Hey, so you figured out a way to keep the Black Mages from… er, 'stopping?' That's fantastic! How'd you do it?"

Mikoto got up a moment to pour two cups of strong tea, then brought them back, a thoughtful look on her face as she began explaining. "I had a hypothesis based on what I knew of Garland's design philosophy. Magic is indeed powerful, but it has a major drawback: it is not an infinite resource. It taxes the wielder; black magic, doubly so. Kuja understood that, and yet he seems to have believed himself immune to it, because he was designed to last longer. But he was wrong." Mikoto shook her head a brief moment. "I digress. Like Kuja, the Black Mages were created to be powerful, at the expense of their own lives. Logically then, if they were to refrain from using magic, they would live much longer lives."

"So… they're not really Black Mages anymore, then," the thief couldn't resist joking.

"Honestly, Zidane…"

"Then the same 'fix' would apply to Kuja?" Zidane mused, remembering all the times the older Genome had moaned that he was on the verge of dying.

"Correct. If he refrains from taxing himself further, he should not expire within the timeframe Garland had set for him."

Zidane breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of his drink, but before he could get too comfortable Mikoto went on, her voice growing somber as if she had something weighing on her conscience. "But even if he had realized the truth about his own mortality, he would not have survived beyond Garland's need of him. As the third Angel of Death, I was also intended as a failsafe against Kuja, to terminate him on command, and to return the body to Garland."

"What?!" Zidane yelped, nearly spitting out a mouthful of tea. How could she say that so casually? "Why?"

"Garland wanted to dissect him, to study the defects in his physical make up. Assuming the body was still viable after that, it would have most likely been reused as an empty vessel," Mikoto explained.

Zidane was horrified. No one deserved a fate like that. Had Kuja known that that was Garland's eventual plan for him? Was that why he'd been so desperate to break free? "He's not defective, and he certainly deserves better than to be treated like some sort of broken machine!" Zidane yelled. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"I have no intention of doing anything to him now that both Garland and Terra are gone."

Zidane shook his head angrily. Before the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, he'd been thinking about asking Mikoto if she'd consider going and checking in on Kuja in his stead, but that didn't seem right any longer.

Mikoto's expression softened a little. "I did not mean to upset you. I… merely wanted to explain some things to you. Be assured I hold no ill will towards Kuja and do not wish him any harm. And if I had no other obligations I would have offered to go to his side in your stead. But there are things that I must do for this town, for the people here. They need guidance, support, representation. I believe… this is my purpose now."

Zidane slowly sat back down; he hadn't realized he'd leapt to his feet in outrage. "Yeah… yeah, you're right. Sorry... for yelling at you like that. It was just hard to hear..." He suddenly stopped, Garland's last words to him echoing through his head. _"Take care of Kuja," huh?_ So the old man really had meant for him to kill Kuja then. And he'd nearly gone through with it… he'd had every intention of killing the other Genome during the battle in Memoria, if that's what it took to save the world he considered home.

"It is impossible to know for certain what Garland had intended. Perhaps, in the end, even he regretted how Kuja's life had turned out. For he had the opportunity to order me to kill Kuja if you and your friends were unable to do so, but he did not." She shrugged, then added, "If you think about something that strongly, yes, it is the same to me as if you had yelled it out loud."

Zidane snorted. He'd always been curious about Mikoto's powers. He supposed that answered that, then. But she had brought up an interesting point. Even though Kuja had created them, he'd resented the Black Mages for reminding him of what he was – a mere tool, a disposable weapon. Had Garland felt the same, resenting the life he'd created because it reminded him of the reason behind his own existence? "And if he had, at that point…?"

"I don't know," Mikoto admitted. "Would I have killed Kuja to save the world I was created to destroy, the world which has now become our home? I can only say I am glad I did not have to make that decision." And then she put a finger to her lip, her brow creasing. "But to this day, I wonder… Kuja got to the crystal well before you did. Why did he not destroy it when he had the opportunity, if that was his goal? Or had that not been his intention in the first place?"

"What do you mean? Why else would he have gone there?"

"He thought he was dying. He knew you would follow."

"Uh, doesn't that sound a bit extreme? Going to such lengths just so…" _…just so he wouldn't die alone,_ his brain finished for him, but Zidane couldn't make himself say it. Then again, this was Kuja they were talking about. And Mikoto did have a point – Kuja had been waiting there for them, floating before the crystal, his face paler than usual, wreathed in hair and feathers red as blood. Zidane had assumed Kuja had waited because he'd wanted witnesses to his moment of triumph, wanted to make sure that the small band of heroes who dared to stand against him were the ones who died first. He hadn't considered the other possibility until much later, but somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten all about it again.

The thief groaned. Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered too his reaction that day - he'd called Kuja a coward and told him to go die by himself.

"Look, can we talk about something else?" he muttered. "And why are you so concerned anyhow? It almost sounds like you want me to go back to him or something." All this talk about Kuja dying made him want to do just that. It was crazy… he hadn't even been gone a day!

"I am not suggesting that you forget your friends and tether yourself to his side," Mikoto said. Then she added softly, "It means a great deal that we are free to choose our own destinies. Regardless of how it happened, that was the freedom he granted us, a freedom he never truly experienced himself."

"He will have it soon. I promised him I'd go back and get him as soon as I could find him safe haven," Zidane swore.

Mikoto gave a curt nod, satisfied, then asked, "So, will you be staying here for the night at least?" and Zidane stared blankly at her for several seconds before realizing she'd done exactly as he'd asked, dropping the subject.

"I'd planned to, though I really miss Dagger…" He trailed off. That sounded so flimsy and selfish after all the things Mikoto had said. He certainly had a lot to think about. "But, I would like to spend some time with Vivi. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yes."

Zidane paused, thinking if there was anything else he needed to ask Mikoto about, and then it dawned on him. "Say… can you check in on Kuja from here? You said you could track us…"

Mikoto shook her head. "The distance is too great. I only have the vague sense that he is alive, somewhere to the north… nothing more."

"Rats!"

"… But in your absence I can try to monitor him that much at least. Would that help you rest easier?"

Zidane gave a small sigh. Even though it wasn't what he'd been hoping for it was certainly better than nothing, and Mikoto had been kind to offer. "Yeah, it would. Thanks a lot! You're really amazing!"

She smiled a bit shyly at the praise, and Zidane smiled back. He suddenly realized that beneath the calm, cool surface was a nice girl who was trying her best to help those around her, even though it was a real challenge. She just wasn't good at showing her emotions. Zidane had been feeling sorry for himself, feeling the responsibility of Kuja's well being bearing down on him like a stone weight. But Mikoto had a lot on her shoulders too, and she wasn't complaining at all.

He got up and went around the table and hugged her for the second time that day, noting that, like Kuja, she seemed a little confused by the display of affection. But she didn't push him away or question it, and merely quietly commented, "I think I still have much to learn."

"That's just how life is." _I guess there's things I still need to learn too…_ he told himself as he resolved to be a little more like Mikoto – less complaining, more self reliance - when it came to handling difficult situations.

Mikoto nodded.

"Oh, and thanks for the tea, by the way. It's delicious."

Mikoto nodded again. "I'm glad. And you are welcome to stay for dinner as well, though beyond that… I must inform you, there's no spare room…"

"I figured as much, and I wasn't planning on imposing…" Zidane replied. "You have housemates, right?"

"Yes."

"And you all get along?"

"Yes."

"So… what are they like? Are they funny, interesting, nice..."

"They're Genomes..."

Zidane laughed. It was such a Mikoto thing to say. But more than that, he was starting to feel a little more relaxed now that they'd sailed clear of the hard part of the conversation. Kuja was still on his mind of course, but having Mikoto's reassurance was helping to take the edge off of his worry. And he liked having the chance to talk to her, to get to know her, too. He bet Kuja would like her as well. Zidane could hardly wait to introduce them to each other. If everything worked out, they'd get to meet pretty soon. It was just a matter of convincing the Black Mages to give Kuja a second chance, and Zidane was optimistic that they would.

* * *

Author's Notes:

- Although Kuja says he's unsure if the events in his dream are accurate or not, that's how I imagined it had happened. But given how much Garland was able to mess with Zidane's head in a short period of time, I can only imagine what he might've done to Kuja if he thought he needed "reprogramming" and had all the time in the world to accomplish it.

- Mikoto's statement about Kuja not being a good person, but giving the Genomes hope by defying their fate was my way of incorporating her speech from the end of the game into this story, modified of course to fit into a conversation.

- Next chapter should be Mr. 288 and maybe Tantalus? Sorry, I'm not a huge fan of Vivi and so while he has to make an appearance in the story, I just don't have much to say about him and don't plan on writing a lengthy conversation between him and Zidane.

- Thanks again to Nenya85 for beta work. Reviews are appreciated!


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